


Secrets

by clionona



Category: August: Osage County (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cousin Incest, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clionona/pseuds/clionona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy couldn't help falling in love with her cousin, Charles. Despite the insanity of their family, happiness is on their horizon until a family secret comes to light and threatens to tear them apart forever.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"That man gets beaten down like a dog on a daily basis by his own mother and almost everybody else in this godforsaken place, and it never turned him hard. It made him even more gentle. He's the best man I've ever known."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Ivy ran out of her mother's home screaming that her mother and sister would never see her again, she meant it with every cell in her body. She drove away from her childhood home with tears in her eyes, full of the certainty that she would never be back to the stuffy house filled with poisonous secrets and air that never seemed to move. Her older sister, Barbara, screamed for Ivy to stop, to stay, to come back, but Ivy kept her foot on the accelerator, wiping away her tears as her sister became smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until distance made her vanish from sight. 

Ivy cried not because she was leaving her family; the leaving itself was the only thing Ivy had ever really wanted. She cried because she loved her sister and would miss her, despite how hurtful and cruel she'd been. She cried because every hope that she ever had for her family was finally and indisputably extinguished. She cried because all ties with her family, except for one, would soon be inalterably severed.

Ivy drove and pushed all the darkness and all of her past away. She focused on the future and all of the possibilities that were in front of her. She weighed her options and fought the rising hysteria threatening to escape through her throat. She breathed deep, kept her car steady, and drove and drove and drove. The farther away she was from her evil mother and the home she'd grown to despise, Ivy became a little more composed. With every mile put between her and the home she grew up in, Ivy became just a little lighter, a little closer to being _free_. By the time she was back at her apartment, Ivy was ready to tackle the reality of the secret that her mother had casually and callously revealed.

Ivy shook her head, refusing to dwell on the twisted truth her mother had told her. She refused to become paralyzed. She walked into her small apartment, threw her purse in the singular chair that sat in her tiny living room and then went straight to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of Jim Beam. She all but chugged the first glass. It helped. She refilled the glass. After the glass was empty for the second time, her choice had been made and Ivy was ready to call her Uncle Charles.

She walked quickly into her living room, dug her cell phone from her purse and dialed. She bit the nail on her left thumb and paced the room as she waited for an answer.

_"Hello?"_

It was Uncle Charles. Ivy silently thanked God that her aunt hadn't been the one to answer the phone.

"Uncle Charles?"

_"Is that you, Ivy?"_

"Yeah, it's me." Ivy had to clear her throat. "You got a minute to talk?"

 _"Always,"_ Uncle Charles said jovially. _"It's not something serious, is it? I mean, you just don't sound quite right."_

Suddenly feeling weak and shaky, Ivy sat heavily on her sofa. "Well, in fact, it's pretty serious."

_"Well, let me sit down, then."_

Ivy could hear the scraping of a chair against a floor on the other side of the line. She felt a sudden, almost overwhelming moment of sheer terror and a sob caught in her throat. A litany of voices screaming that she shouldn't have made the call, that the impending conversation was a terrible idea, crowded her head. She screamed at herself that she needed to speak to Little Charles before she spoke to his father. She looked at her phone and let her thumb hover over the End Call button. She would have pressed it had her uncle not spoken at that very second.

_"Now tell me what's going on, sweetheart."_

Like ripping off a band-aid, she blurted, "I am in love with Little Charles."

She heard Uncle Charles sigh. _"I knew it."_

Ivy exhaled. "You did?"

_"Well, Little Charles told me about the situation. Gotta say it's a relief to hear his feelings are being returned."_

"Uncle Charles, I love him. I am in love with him and... and we're going away together."

_"That so?"_

"It is."

_"Ivy, you know I think the world of you. I love you just like my own daughter."_

Ivy almost dissolved into hysterical laughter but was able to choke it back.

"I love you, too, Uncle Charles."

_"I know that, hon. I know. And I know that you and my son won't have it easy. The two of you together, might not be the best thing. You know that too, dontcha?"_

"Oh, I know," Ivy said, the Jim Beam making her words thick and slow. "I know that more than you do."

_"What do you mean?"_

"I don't want to hurt you, Uncle Charles. I would never want to hurt you. I don't want to tell you what I'm about to tell you. I wish no one had ever told me what I'm about to tell you. It would be so much easier if I just didn't know."

_"Honey, are you drunk?"_

"No," Ivy said. "I've had a couple of drinks, but only to give me the guts to do this."

_"The guts to do what?"_

"Tell you the truth," Ivy said. "I have to tell you the truth because I need your help. I need your help, Uncle Charles, to keep Little Charles happy. You want him to be happy don't you?"

_"Of course, I want my boy to be happy."_

"Well then I have to tell you."

_"Go ahead. I'm listening."_

"I'm sorry," Ivy said, her voice beginning to break. "I'm sorry..." She broke down in a fit of tears and quiet sobs. "Oh, god, Uncle Charles..."

_"You're scaring me, now. What in God's name is going on, Ivy?"_

She sniffed loudly and then whispered into the phone, "Little Charles is my brother. I'm in love with my brother, Uncle Charles."

There was a moment of silence and then Uncle Charles said very quietly, _"Well, I'm glad you know."_

Ivy pressed the phone hard against her ear. "What?"

_"I said that I'm glad you know. I'm glad you know that Little Charles is your half-brother. I mean, it would have been easier if you two could have peacefully lived without knowing, but I would have felt a little guilty for letting you go off to New York without knowing the truth about what you are."_

Ivy's world tilted on its axis. "You knew? About everything?"

Uncle Charles chuckled and Ivy wanted to throw her phone across the room.

_"Of course, I knew. I didn't know right away. But your father was my best friend in the world. There were no secrets between me and Bev. When Little Charles was about three, he came clean. I let my wife go on believing that I didn't know. Easier."_

"And New York?"

_"My son tells me everything. Ain't no secrets between us either."_

"You called him your son."

_"He is my son. Nothing is going to ever change that."_

"What do I do? I love him." She was suddenly back to crying. "Oh, god, what do I do?"

_"You really love my boy?"_

"Yes." There wasn't even a hint of hesitation.

_"Then you love my boy. That's what you do."_

"He can't know," Ivy said. "Not ever."

_"No, he can't know. And he will not ever hear it from me."_

"What about from Aunt Mattie?" Ivy bit her bottom lip and let her head fall back against the sofa.

_"Don't you worry about her. I can handle Mattie Fae."_

"I love him," Ivy said. "I love him so much. I thought so hard, Uncle Charles. So hard. I thought so hard and I can't live without him."

_"You don't have to live without him. You take him to New York and you be happy."_

"I can't believe any of this. I can't believe you're saying this to me."

 _"Don't go thinking that I'm ready to throw a party for you. I wish things were different. God, I wish things were different. But they ain't. Things are what they are. I've carried this secret for so long. It's burned in me for years and years. It hasn't been easy for me, you know?"_

"I can't even imagine."

_"Well, now you get to share the burden, darlin'. And I sure am sorry for that. Think you can handle it? Can you be sure that it's not going to change any of your feelings for Little Charles?"_

"No, it won't," Ivy said. "I mean, my perspective has changed. I'm suddenly glad that I no longer have a uterus." She laughed, a dark, shaky sound. "I won't ever have kids, but I'll have _him_. That's all that matters. He's... he's my everything, Uncle Charles."

She could never explain with words the pull towards Little Charles that she felt, the electricity that he made course through her, the way he filled her heart until she thought it would burst wide open. The world may never understand, but the rest of the world didn't matter. Ivy's thoughts, only slightly muddled with alcohol, were suddenly pulled in the direction of Little Charles and the way it would be the two of them against the world for the rest of her life. She thought of the future with a mix of worry and hope until her uncle's voice brought her back to the present.

_"When did you find out about the truth?"_

"Today," Ivy said. "Mom told me when I went over for lunch. Wasn't pretty. Barbara knows, too."

_"Jesus. I am so sorry, Ivy."_

"I'm sorry, too."

_"Is there anything I can do?"_

"You've already done it. I feel one hundred pounds lighter."

_"That's good._

"You don't hate me for taking him away? Away from you, I mean."

_"No. You both deserve happiness and neither one of you kids are going to find that here."_

"I'm taking him to New York, and I'm going to make sure he's happy. I swear."

_"That pretty much settles things then, doesn't it?"_

"Thank you, Uncle Charles."

_"Don't thank me. Just take care of my boy."_

"I will," Ivy said, nodding to herself.

_"Alright then. When are you leaving?"_

"In the morning."

_"He spending the night with you?"_

"That was the plan," Ivy said.

_"I'll say my goodbyes tonight when I drop him off."_

"Okay."

_"Okay."_

"I'll see you later, then."

_"Yeah. But are you okay? I mean, are you okay right now? Do you need someone to come sit with you or anything?"_

"No," Ivy said, warmth and gratitude for her uncle flooding her chest. "I'm good. Now that we've talked, everything is fine."

_"Alright. See you later tonight."_

"Bye."

_"Bye."_

Ivy disconnected the call and gently placed her phone on the coffee table before stretching out on the couch and closing her eyes. Amazed at how painlessly and quickly all of her fears were gone, she wiped the lingering dampness from her face and then fell asleep. She would later berate herself for so easily believing that her troubles were over.

* * *

Ivy woke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. Disoriented, she sat up and shook her head. She looked at the door and called out, "Who is it?"

"It's me."

_Barbara._

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ivy stood and crossed the room to let her sister in. She didn't look at Barbara or say a single word. She opened the door and then turned right around to reclaim her spot on the couch.

"We need to talk," Barbara said, settling into the chair that was holding Ivy's purse. Barbara placed the purse on the floor at her feet while she held her own bag on her lap.

Ivy sat silently, her head hanging low.

"Oh, come on," Barbara said. "The silent treatment? Really? I thought _you_ were above things like that."

Ivy licked her dry bottom lip and finally looked at her sister. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Well, how about I start? After you left me alone with Mom - thank you so much for that, by the way - we had a huge fight."

"Sorry to hear that." Ivy's voice was void of emotion, dead and dull, like her bleary eyes.

"Thanks for the sympathy," Barbara said, rolling her eyes. "It's touching, really."

"What do you want from me?"

"A little consideration, maybe?"

Ivy sighed and shifted on the couch until she fully faced her sister. "I'm sorry, Barbara. Really."

"I know," Barbara sighed, her voice soft. She leaned forward and took Ivy's hand. "I'm sorry, too. I was honestly trying to spare you earlier. Really, I was."

"I know," Ivy said. "I just didn't know what to do. My world was kind of rocked, you know?"

"Yeah," Barbara said, gently squeezing Ivy's hand in reassurance before letting go and leaning back in her chair. "What happens now?"

"I won't see Mom again. I just can't. I know that makes me selfish, but I can't."

"That doesn't make you selfish," Barbara said. "She won't be seeing me again either. Things were said, things that can't be taken back, pills or no pills. She did something unforgivable, Ivy."

Barbara looked away, toward the one window in Ivy's living room, through which warm, late afternoon sunlight was streaming. A tear was gleaming on Barbara's cheek.

"Do you want to tell me?" Ivy asked, not at all sure that she actually wanted to hear whatever heinous sin her drug addicted, cancer-riddled mother had committed.

"No," Barbara said with a weak smile. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

"I guess not," Ivy said. "Want a drink?"

"I'd better not," Barbara said. "I've got a long drive back to Colorado."

"You're leaving right now?"

"As soon as we're done talking. I couldn't leave without settling things with you."

"I'm glad you didn't leave without talking to me," Ivy said, and she meant it. "You sure you should be driving?"

"Don't worry," Barbara said. "I'll be stopping at a motel before I get too tired. Some time by myself to think will do me good."

"You got a lot to think about, I guess." It had been revealed that Barbara's husband, Bill, cheated on her with a younger woman. And Barbara's daughter, Jean, radiated waves of hatred toward her mother. Barbara certainly had her hands full and Ivy did feel sorry for her. "Things will work out. They love you, Bill and Jean both."

Barbara nodded, and then quickly changed the subject. "What about _you_? Do you want to talk about things? You and Little Charles?"

"No," Ivy said. "It's all settled, and to be honest, I'm not sure I can handle your reaction to the choices I've made."

"You're still going to New York, then? With Little Charles?"

"Yes," Ivy said. "With Little Charles."

"Are you going to tell him the truth?"

"No," Ivy said, pinning her sister with a cold look, "and you won't tell him either."

"Of course, not," Barbara said. "It's none of my business."

"I love him. I've found a man that I love who loves me back and I don't want to let him go. Is that so wrong?"

"It's none of my business," Barbara said, "but if you want to know my feelings on the matter, I don't like it. Please don't hate me, but it just doesn't sit right."

"I don't hate you," Ivy said, "and I understand how you feel. I really, really understand, but I can't change the way I feel."

"I want you to be happy," Barbara said. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ivy said, forcing a smile. "It's something isn't it? It was hard enough to deal with when he was just my cousin."

"But he's not your cousin," Barbara said. "He's your _brother_."

"Don't," Ivy said. "Just, please, don't."

"I'm sorry, but... are you _sure_? Are you one-hundred percent sure this is what you want?"

"Barbara, I am old enough to make my own decisions. I appreciate the concern, but, yes, I am sure. I love him. He loves me. End of story."

"Okay," Barbara said with a tone of finality, as if the matter were being put to rest. "So, I need details. All I know is that you are going to New York with the man you love. What happens then?"

A genuine smile played on Ivy's lips as she explained that she already had a job lined up at a library and had already signed a lease on a small apartment that she found on the internet.

"And Little Charles? What will he be doing in this scenario?"

The smile slipped and Ivy became defensive, as she often did when it came to Little Charles. "He will be doing whatever he wants to do. I won't have to carry him or something like that, if that's what you're implying."

Barbara help up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't mean anything by the question. I was genuinely curious."

"Sorry," Ivy said. "I'm so used to protecting that poor man from the poisonous tongue of his mother..."

"I get it," Barbara said. "But since we're on the subject, what is it about him that attracted you? I mean, he's _Little Charles_."

"We're having that conversation?" Ivy said with her nose wrinkled in disbelief. "You want to talk about boys?"

Barbara shrugged. "It's what sisters do. Now, spill."

"If you really want to know, it was his kindness, I guess," Ivy said. "When I found out I had to have someone come and get me after my hysterectomy, he was the only one I could ask. I expected him to pick me up, drop me off and leave. But he dropped everything to take care of me. He wouldn't leave my side. Waited on me hand and foot. Did things for me that I was not able to do for myself. I almost blush thinking about the things he had to do for me, but he did them without hesitation. That man gets beaten down like a dog on a daily basis by his own mother and almost everybody else in this godforsaken place, and it never turned him hard. It made him even more gentle. He's the best man I've ever known, Barb."

Barbara looked up at the ceiling, making a great show of pondering Ivy's words. "Wow. All that and pretty blue eyes, too? I can see why you fell for him."

"Don't be like that," Ivy said. "There's a lot to love about him. It's nothing to joke about."

"Not joking at all," Barbara said. "I've always loved Little Charles, too. Not in the same way you do, obviously, but you get what I mean."

"Yeah, I get it," Ivy said, "but you don't know what you're missing. He's a damn good kisser."

Both women collapsed in a fit of laughter.

* * *

It was two hours later when Barbara finally stood, shouldered her bag and hugged Ivy goodbye.

"I love you, Ivy."

"Love you too, Barb."

"Let me know the minute you get to New York, okay?"

"Will do."

They hugged once more and then Barbara was in her truck and driving away.

Ivy dashed back inside and checked to make sure all of her essentials were packed. They were bringing only those things that they would not be able to pick up in New York because there wasn't a whole lot of room in Ivy's car.

She was anxious, waiting for Little Charles to arrive. It would be the first time she would see him after finding out the truth, and that thought made her uneasy. It would change nothing. She wouldn't let it change anything.

She pondered another glass of bourbon, but decided against it. She wanted to be clear-headed. For lack of anything else to do, she settled for watching the TV. Some mindless program about rich housewives droned on while she sat on her couch, chewing her thumb nail. 

The scenes blurred into commercials and one show turned into another until, finally, she heard footsteps right outside her door. She flew to open it, throwing it wide. Little Charles stood in her doorway, bathed in the yellow glow from her porch light, two suitcases at his feet and a grin on his face.

"Hi there," Ivy said.

"Hello," Little Charles answered shyly.

Uncle Charles ambled up, carrying a large box which was taped up tight. He nodded at Ivy.

"Come on in, guys," Ivy said, stepping back and giving them room to enter.

"Where should I put the box?" Uncle Charles asked, awkwardly looking around the room. 

"Anywhere," Ivy said, her hands fluttering nervously. "Anywhere is fine."

Relieved of their burdens, both men stood, uneasily looking around the room.

"Have a seat," Ivy said quickly, gesturing toward the couch. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

Uncle Charles laughed. "You're not a hostess at a restaurant, Ivy. Sit down and let's have a little chat."

"Okay," Ivy said, her heart beating hard. She looked at Little Charles and was relieved to feel the usual throb of affection laced with _want_ at the sight of him. She sat as close to him as she could without feeling weird about it while his father was in the room.

Uncle Charles, seated by himself in the chair, smiled at the pair and asked, "So, are you two all set, then?"

"I, uh, I think so," Ivy answered. "I'm all packed. Car has been serviced."

"Good," Uncle Charles said, nodding his head with fatherly approval. "Got your route planned out? Maps?"

"Her car's got GPS," Little Charles said proudly. "And she's a great driver."

"Alright then," Uncle Charles said. "What about important paperwork? You got that all sorted? Birth certificates and the like?"

"I have all of mine," Ivy said, turning to look at Little Charles. "I'm not sure about..."

Ivy's words trailed off as she suddenly, inexplicably, felt like she'd failed Little Charles in some way by not making sure he'd packed those important things. She felt that Uncle Charles had put her through this test and that she hadn't lived up to expectations. She started to fidget.

"Don't worry about Little Charles," Uncle Charles said quickly, nothing but kindness in his voice. "He's all set."

"Good," Ivy said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I can't think of anything else. Pretty sure we're good to go."

Uncle Charles cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Now, I hate to be indelicate, but how are you for money?"

"I've managed to save quite a bit," Ivy said. "We'll be okay. We don't have a lot, but we have enough."

"Glad to hear it," Uncle Charles said as he rose from his seat. He dug into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out an envelope and tossed it onto the coffee table between them. "Now you have a little more."

"Uncle Charles, I..."

"Don't bother," Little Charles said, cutting her off. "I've already tried to refuse, but he won't listen."

"I don't know what to say," Ivy said. She looked at her uncle and pointedly ignored the envelope of money.

"Say 'thank you' and let that be the end of it," Uncle Charles said.

"Thank you," Ivy said, reaching across the table to squeeze her uncle's hand. He patted it awkwardly and then let Ivy take her hand back.

"Well, I'd best be getting home, then," Uncle Charles said. 

"Oh, okay," Ivy said, standing. Little Charles rose beside her and then quickly stepped around the coffee table to pull his father into a fierce hug.

"I love you, Dad," Little Charles said. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, son," his father said, holding Little Charles tight. "I love you. Call me when you're settled. Just because you're moving doesn't mean we don't talk."

"I promise," Little Charles said, stepping away and straightening his jacket.

"And _you_ ," Uncle Charles said, looking directly at Ivy, "you take good care of our boy."

Her eyes went to Little Charles who was looking down at the floor, grinning and blushing.

"I will," Ivy said, stepping into her uncle's embrace. "I promise."

"Good," Uncle Charles said, stepping back and turning towards the door. Both Ivy and Little Charles followed close behind.

"Thanks for everything, Uncle Charles," Ivy said.

"I didn't do anything," the lankly man answered. "But if you kids need anything, anything at all, you call me. Understand?"

"We'll call you in a few days," Ivy promised. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah, we'll be fine, Dad," Little Charles echoed and then bravely slipped his arm around Ivy's shoulders.

"I'm sure you will," Uncle Charles said, assessing the couple with a wide grin. "Who would have seen this coming out of you two? Ivy, you're supposed to be the dependable one."

She laughed. "I still am."

"Counting on that," Uncle Charles said with a laugh as he turned and made his way to his car. 

Little Charles closed the door and then turned toward Ivy and scooped her up into a fierce hug.

"I'm so happy," he said.

She locked her arms around his neck and said, "I am, too."

After everything Ivy had been through that day, being in Little Charles' arms was like a balm to her tattered soul. She wanted to drown in him and forget everything else.

"Let's go to bed," she whispered against his neck.

Little Charles shivered and tightened his hold around Ivy's waist. His lips moved against her hair as he answered, "I think that's a fine idea."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Ivy stirred in her bed and was startled awake by a warm weight pressing against her side. She blinked her eyes opened and smiled at the sight of Charles sleeping peacefully beside her. She stretched her legs and was filled with giddiness by the pleasant soreness in her thighs. Delicious memories of the previous night flitted through her mind and a fizzy delight settled low in her stomach. She couldn't resist rolling onto her side and placing a gentle kiss on Charles' slack lips.

He startled at the contact, his eyes snapping open and his lungs drawing a quick, sharp breath.

"Hey you," Ivy whispered, scooting backward to give him some room. "Sorry I woke you."

He looked at her and smiled brightly. "No. I'm glad you did." 

They looked at each other in easy silence, grinning and filled with promise. They traded light caresses and quick kisses on noses and cheeks. The morning sun washed everything in a pale, warm light, and Ivy traced the shadows on Charles' face with her fingertips. They lost track of time, just breathing each other in.

"I want to stay just like this all day," Charles said eventually, "but I have to pee."

Ivy laughed and covered her face with her hands. "Me too. You go first. I'll start the coffee."

"Sounds good," Charles said, leaning over and planting a loud smack of a kiss on her lips before jumping from the bed and shuffling into the adjoining bathroom in nothing but his boxer shorts.

She watched him and shook her head in amusement.

* * *

"When do you want to hit the road?" Charles asked, sitting at the tiny dining table, sipping his coffee and watching Ivy flutter around the kitchen.

She was buttering toast for the both of them and dicing up some apples to share.

"As soon as we're ready. We don't have any strict schedule to adhere to. Let's eat a little breakfast, straighten my apartment so it's ready for the landlord to let in the Salvation Army and clear things out later this week, take a shower and then get going."

"You've just got it all figured out, don't you?" Charles said with nothing but fondness.

"Well, I am the dependable one," Ivy joked as she slid a paper plate of toast and fruit toward Charles. "Sorry it's not a better breakfast. All the pots and pans and stuff are already packed away."

"Looks great," Charles said with his eyes squarely on Ivy and not on his food.

Ivy shook her head and placed a kiss on Charles' forehead before turning away to grab her own plate. She asked wistfully, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

When she turned to sit at the table she was startled to see a sad, faraway look had clouded Charles' eyes.

"Hey," she said gently. "What's wrong?"

He fidgeted with his coffee cup and kept his head down, his lips sealed together in a grim line. 

"Come on," she said, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "Tell me what's wrong, please."

"It's just that..." He took a breath and looked at her with unshed tears shining in his eyes. "It's just that no one has ever asked me that question like... like it was a _good_ thing. Like _I_ was a good thing."

She was confused for a moment. She came very close to asking what question he was talking about. Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but then it all clicked into place and she just _knew_. Her heart crumbled apart for the sweet man sitting across from her, even as anger toward those that had hurt him and put him in this dark place threatened to seep through the sadness.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, rising from her chair and slowly lowering herself into Charles' lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her head against his. " _What did I do to deserve you?_ Of course, that's a good thing. _You're_ a good thing. You're my hero, remember? I could spend the rest of my life doing good deeds and it would never be enough to deserve _you_. Do you understand me?"

He nodded slightly, but stayed silent, an aura of shame surrounding him. She held him tighter, rocking him gently, searching her mind for something else she could say, some magic phrase that would cleanse him of everything dark that the world had shoved onto him. She could think of nothing. So they sat quietly, swaying and soaking in each other's warmth.

Ivy had lost track of the time they'd sat there glued together, so immersed in the quiet that she almost jumped when Charles finally spoke.

"The way you talk to me," he said softly," and the way you look at me...." He broke off, shaking his head very slightly as if he couldn't complete the thought.

"How do I look at you?"

He raised his head and looked Ivy in the eye. "Like I can do anything."

She smiled. "Well, you _can_."

Ivy leaned back a little so that she could see him clearly and then cupped his face gently in her hands. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, and everything inside of Ivy melted. He looked at her like she was strong and beautiful, like there was not a single thing broken inside of her. To him, she would never be some wounded bird to be pitied. To Charles, Ivy would always be nothing but _whole_. Blood or no blood, how could anyone ever expect her to turn away from that kind of love?

"I love you," she whispered, leaning forward until their foreheads were resting together. "I love you so much."

She felt his chest expand with a huge breath as his body pressed against hers and then he shuddered slightly on the breath's release.

"I almost believe you," he said, chuckling.

"You'd better," she said, her voice steely. "I love you, Charles, and I _want_ you. I want you for the rest of my life. Believe it."

"You and me," he echoed, his voice full of wonder, "for the rest of our lives." Again, he was looking at Ivy like she was _everything_ , like she was rare and important, like the secrets of the universe were kept in her eyes.

Ivy couldn't stop herself from burying her hands in his hair and pulling him forward into a searing kiss. She held him tight, tried to pour into him everything she was feeling. His lips were plush and perfect, moving against hers in wonderful configurations of varying pressures that made her head spin. He was a tantalizing combination of heat and tenderness that overwhelmed her. They kissed hard and they kissed soft. They kissed until they had to stop for lack of breath. It wasn't until they broke apart for air that she felt the hard length of him pressing against her backside.

"Charles," she whimpered, lightheaded with yearning. "I..."

"Can I take you back to bed?" he asked, his voice low and rough with need.

She felt her face grow warm as she nodded, realizing that he truly valued her. She knew he treasured her because he always _asked_. Charles would never view her body as something to which he was entitled. To Charles, her body was a gift and he would never just reach out and take. He would always _ask_. The realization sent a searing hot bolt of lust sizzling along her nerves. She nodded again and kissed him. Then her entire body throbbed as he soothingly placed his hands on her hips and softly guided her up from his lap. His was the very picture of pride, his shoulders back and his head held high, as he took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

Her love for Charles overflowed in that moment, pouring through her in a torrent, sweeping her away. She couldn't keep herself from reaching out and pulling him roughly toward her. She kissed him hard, just once, and then stood back, letting him take control, giving herself over to him in every way she could.

He undressed her quickly, but gently, and then nodded at the still messy bed. Ivy lay down in the sheets that still smelled of sex and watched him toss his own clothing aside. He wasn't perfect, but Ivy found herself breathless at the sight of him all the same. He was built with long, fluid lines and elegant limbs that flowed with easy grace. But it was his beautiful, sculpted face, and the blazing look in his eyes, that truly made her weak.

"Come here," she whispered, opening her arms to him.

He lowered himself into the cradle of her embrace and covered her, pressing her down into the mattress. She clutched his shoulders as he slowly nuzzled her neck. His lips moving against her skin made her entire body sing out, made her body seek his out, made her body writhe against him.

"You feel good," he whispered against her shoulder, his hips finding hers.

"You feel good, too," Ivy said, opening her thighs wide and rolling against him. "You always feel good."

He moaned right next to her ear before leaning down to pepper her neck with kisses. She dug her fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to keep his mouth there at her neck, just below her ear, where the nerves seemed to be connected directly to her sex.

Ivy's body rocked against Charles, her heels digging into the bed to give her better traction. Dizzily, she realized she was already close to coming - with just his mouth on her neck and his cock sliding wetly against her.

Pleasure coursed through her in stuttering pulses, each one pushing her closer to the looming precipice of completion. She chased each wave, writhing in a rhythm which Charles easily caught on to. She was so close that she almost wailed with dismay when Charles reared up, moving his body down the bed so that he could mouth her breasts. She didn't wail, but she was helpless against the needful whimper that slipped from her.

"I've got you," Charles said before licking a nipple. "Don't worry."

And then suddenly he was between her legs and his mouth was on her, his head moving lazily between her thighs as he licked at her wetness.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, wrapping her hands in the sheets at her sides. "Oh my... Charles... Charles..."

Her brain shorted out and her body moved of its own volition as she shamelessly pressed herself against his mouth. Charles never faltered in his task, lapping at her with abandon, squeezing her thighs for leverage. It wasn't long before she was moving herself up and down against his tongue, rocking against his face. All she could see was the top of his head, because he never looked up, but she knew he was thoroughly enjoying her by the sounds he made. Charles was moaning against her, obviously wanting her so much, and the wet, obscene noises that filled the air only pushed her closer to completion.

Charles never tired, his tongue slipping through her folds and flicking at the tight bundle of nerves that made her shake and whimper and lose herself. Heat flooded her veins and her muscles seized as her climax crashed over her in a warm wave. Charles caressed her thighs, eased her down from her high with light touches and soothing sounds.

When she was fully back to herself, she realized he had rested his head on her stomach and was humming the song that he'd written for her. She brushed her fingers through his hair and delighted at the tints of red that the morning sun was glinting against.

"Thank you for that," she said. "You're amazing."

" _You_ are," he said.

She giggled, and he had to lift his head because her belly was shaking. He looked up at her, his eyes warm and dazed. She sobered slightly and smirked. "Your turn?"

"Oh..." Charles lifted his body and flopped down beside her on his stomach. When he spoke his voice was mumbled because his face was buried in the sheets. "This is so embarrassing."

"What?" Ivy asked. "What's going on?"

He murmured something that she couldn't understand.

"Charles," she said, sitting up and rubbing his shoulders. "Come on. Sit up. Talk to me."

He went as far as lifting his head. "I already... you know... while I was..." He groaned in embarrassment and let his head fall back down.

"Oh my god," Ivy said with obvious delight. "You _came_ just from doing _that_? To _me_?"

"Yeah," he said, turning his head away from her. "I know. I can't do nothing right."

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "I think it's pretty obvious that you did something very, very right." She shifted until she was lying flush beside him, completely comfortable in her nudity, and ran her fingertips up and down his back in long, soothing strokes. "Look at me."

He did so instantly, turning his head so that their faces were only inches apart.

"You just made me come so hard that I saw white _with only your mouth_. I am one hundred percent satisfied, okay?"

He smiled wide and bashful and her heart fluttered in her chest.

"The issue that I'm worried about," Ivy continued, "is _your_ satisfaction."

She watched heat flood his face and turn his cheeks red. "I'm good," he said, chuckling. "I'm real good."

"Are you sure?"

He looked up at the ceiling, as if pondering how he should answer. He was smiling, but earnest, when he said, "You have no idea how good you taste."

Ivy's mouth dropped open in shock. She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands. "Oh my god, Charles! You can't just say things like that!"

"Why not?" he asked playfully as he turned to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close against him. "It's the truth."

She shook her head, giggled, and then dropped her hands so that she could look at the wonderful man that had stolen her heart.

"You're going to be the death of me, Charles."

He grinned and then squeezed her. She kissed his shoulder and then his lips, surprised that there was no strange taste to the kiss considering what they'd done. 

Ivy became conscious of their nudity, the shared heat between their bodies, and a voice inside of her whispered, _He is your brother._ It twisted through Ivy, made her cringe. She closed her eyes and willed the voice away.

"We need to shower," Charles said. "We've got things to do."

"Look at you," Ivy said, her voice not as light as she'd wanted it to be, "being the dependable one."

* * *

As long as no problems cropped up, it would take Ivy and Charles three days to get to New York. They were ready to hit the road by noon. All of the remnants of food in the kitchen had been pitched in the trash bins outside (along with the old sheets that had been on her bed) and Charles had been surprisingly adept at fitting all of the boxes into the trunk of Ivy's old Toyota Corolla. In the back seat were their overnight bags which they would need to bring into the motel when they stopped for the night. The envelope of cash from Uncle Charles was secured in Ivy's purse. Factoring in time for a quick stop for food later in the afternoon, they planned to be in St. Louis, Missouri around seven o'clock, the perfect time to stop for the night according to Charles.

"Do you want to drive first?" Charles asked, shaking the keys as they walked out to the car.

"Nope," Ivy said. "You drive first. I'm gonna kick my heels up and relax while you do the hard work."

He tipped his head and smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

After a quick stop in Springfield, Missouri for a couple of burgers and a shared milkshake, they switched places and Ivy took the wheel. 

As she merged onto I-44 East, Charles asked, "Are you happy?"

"Well, I'll be a lot happier in three and a half hours when we're at the motel. I hate driving."

"I never knew that about you. Why didn't you tell me? I'll drive."

"No," Ivy said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's not right for one of us to do all the work. We're a partnership."

"We are?" Charles asked, seemingly surprised.

"Of course, we are," Ivy said, slightly distracted by the traffic. "Why would you even ask that? Why would you doubt that?"

"I don't know," Charles answered, shrugging. "I just worry sometimes."

"I know you do," Ivy said. "And I want you to stop that worrying. I'm yours, buddy. You're mine. Deal with it."

Charles laughed and turned to look out the window at the world flying by. Ivy accelerated into the fast lane.

* * *

The trip was easy and fun, with the exception of a few ignored calls from Ivy's mother, Violet. The drive itself was uneventful and without mishap. Ivy and Charles arrived in Port Jervis, New York on the evening of Sunday, August 25, 2013, and Ivy had never felt more free in her entire life.

Charles pulled them into a Days Inn right off the Greenville Turnpike and Ivy thought it was the most wonderful place she'd ever been.

They checked in, called out for a pizza to be delivered and then stripped down to their T-shirts and underwear to watch TV. They were propped up on the bed with Charles' arm around Ivy's shoulders, both tired and lazy from a day spent on the road.

With his eyes on the television Charles said, "This isn't what I thought New York City would be like."

"We're not in New York City. We wouldn't be able to afford living in New York City. We're in Port Jervis, which is about an hour and a half north of New York City."

"Oh," Charles said. "What's our place like?"

"It's a small apartment," Ivy said. "You want to see pictures? I can show you on my phone."

"No, that's okay," Charles said, his gaze still glued to the television. "I'll see it tomorrow in real life."

"Something wrong?" Ivy asked. 

Charles shook his head. "No. I guess it's just hitting me that my home ain't my home anymore."

"I get it. It's pretty monumental, moving like this. It's a big change." Ivy sat up and twisted around so that she could see Charles' face. "You want to call your dad or something?"

"No," Charles said. "I'm not a child who needs his daddy."

"I know that," Ivy said. "I just want to do whatever you need me to do for you to feel okay."

Charles looked at her with that wide grin that he reserved only for Ivy. "I have you. Nothing in this world can me feel not okay."

"I love you, Charles. Thank you for doing this with me. Thank you for being my home."

Charles' brow furrowed as he asked, "I'm your home?"

"You are."

"Well, I guess that's good."

"It is." Ivy snuggled against Charles then, draping her arm over his waist.

The TV droned on and Ivy's eyes grew heavy. She was on the edge of falling asleep when Charles spoke.

"Ivy?"

She hummed in acknowledgement, burrowing closer into his side.

"You're my home, too."

* * *

The next morning, Ivy woke to an empty bed and Charles coming into the room with a bucket of ice and two small bottles of orange juice.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he called as he sat the armful on the desk just inside the doorway. "Sorry if I woke you."

"No, it's okay," Ivy said, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head. "What time is it?"

Charles didn't wear a watch, so he had to squint at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "It's a little after eight."

"Good," Ivy said. "Plenty of time to get something to eat and grab a shower before we meet our new landlord at one o'clock."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Charles said, sitting on the bed and leaning in to plant a light, sweet kiss on Ivy's lips.

"Mmm," she hummed. "You taste good. I must taste horrible. Morning breath."

"Should we really have another conversation about the way you taste?" He grinned at her as she laughed.

"Coffee," Ivy said suddenly. "I need coffee." 

"It's already made," Charles said. "Let me fix it for you. I know how you like it."

He ambled over to the little coffee machine that all motels have on their bathroom vanities and went about preparing Ivy's coffee.

"You're the best," Ivy said. She was going to say more when her phone suddenly rang. It was charging on the nightstand and the cord snagged when Ivy tried to look at the display. She huffed in frustration and then pulled the charging cord from the phone. She was so flustered that she answered without even looking at who was calling.

"Hello?"

_"Ivy?"_

It was Aunt Mattie. Ivy froze, holding the phone to her ear with no idea of what to say or what to do. She should have known that Charles' mother would have at least called.

_"Ivy. Come on, now. Talk to me. I know you're there. I can hear you breathing."_

"I'm here."

_"Is my boy with you?"_

As if on cue, Charles called out, "We don't have enough sugar packets here. I'm sorry. I'll go to the lobby..."

His voice trailed off when he saw Ivy's stricken face.

"Who is that?" Charles asked.

"It's your mom," Ivy said, the phone still pressed to her ear where Mattie Fae could hear everything.

Charles lunged forward and snatched the phone from Ivy's hand. Ivy was so shocked by the uncharacteristic outburst that she sat motionless while Charles lifted the phone to his ear.

"Mom?"

Charles listened to his mother's response and turned his back to Ivy.

"Yes, of course, it's me. No, you cannot talk to Ivy. I won't let you... I won't let you _spoil_ this."

He paced the room, clearly agitated, but he never raised his voice.

"I _am_ being respectful, Mom, which is more than I can say for you."

Ivy couldn't rein in the startled gasp that escaped her. 

He whipped around to look at her, but then turned back around to face the wall just as quickly.

"Look, I love you. You know I've always loved you. But, Mom, maybe... maybe you just haven't always loved _me_."

More silence filled the room while he listened to his mother's response. Ivy was still paralyzed in the bed, full of nervous energy and nowhere to put it.

"Maybe because I'm not under your thumb anymore," he almost hissed. "I've got a chance here, Mom, a chance for happiness. Don't you see that? Don't you want that for me?"

More hateful silence.

"I don't want to hear it. You had lots of chances to talk to me when I was at home, and you used all of those to tear me down." Ivy could hear sadness and maybe even tears slipping into Charles' voice. "You know, until you can respect me and show me just a little bit of motherly love or affection, you can just forget you have a son."

Ivy's eyes went wide as she stared at the broad expense of Charles' shoulders.

"Goodbye, Mom."

Ivy could tell that Charles was just looking at the phone, maybe trying to figure out how to disconnect the call. Finally the paralysis broke and Ivy was able to leap from the bed. She approached him slowly, so unsure of what she should say. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Charles?"

He turned around and handed her the phone. Ivy was relieved to see he was dry-eyed and steady.

"I'm sorry about that," he said in his usual contrite manner. "I don't know what came over me."

Ivy threw the phone on the bed and hugged him. "What was that? What happened?"

"She wants me home. Trying to guilt me into coming back." He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Ivy's waist. "She doesn't realize that I _am_ home."

"My hero," Ivy said softly, her lips moving against the soft material of his shirt.

"Have I ever told you that I absolutely adore it when you call me your hero?"

"Nope," Ivy said with a smile. "You've never said as much, but I kind of figured it out."

"Why can't they just leave us be?" Charles asked. "Our family..."

"We are _our family_ ," Ivy said. "I'm real proud of you, Charles. Real proud."

"What for?" he asked, swaying slightly with Ivy in his arms.

"For what you said," she explained. "You were really brave. I don't think I could ever stand up to my mother that way."

"Well, everything I said, it's all been needing to come out for a long, long time."

"I know," Ivy said, nodding and stepping back. She smoothed her hair and her T-shirt, suddenly very conscious of the fact that she had just woken up.

"Don't fuss," Charles said with a smile. "You always look perfect."

She grinned and looked down at her bare feet. "You think so?"

"I do," Charles said, stepping closer to her, forcing her to take a step back. "In fact, you look good enough to take to bed."

"Is that so?" she teased. They were both full of adrenaline after the phone call and a quick tumble would do them both a world of good.

"Oh, yeah, that's so," he said. "What do you think about that?"

"I think you're just full of good ideas," Ivy answered before sliding her shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

The trip across the country had been so effortless that Ivy had never expected that the drive from the Days Inn to the their new home, which should have taken all of five minutes, would be so exasperating. Only two turns were required to get to the apartment complex, and Ivy somehow missed the first one, shifting them completely off course. The GPS had been of no assistance at all, and after having to turn around in three different parking lots, Ivy became so frustrated that she abruptly pulled over on the side of the road and slammed the car into park. She left the motor running, and without saying a word, opened her door and got out of the car. Charles silently made sure she was settled in the passenger seat before taking over the driving duties.

"Thank you," she said, huffing out a relieved breath. She leaned over and kissed Charles' cheek. "My hero."

With Charles behind the wheel, Ivy was able to relax some, taking in the quaint homes and lush green trees that lined the streets of their new town. He seemed just as delighted with the scenery, smiling the entire way. It turned out that Charles had a marvelous sense of direction and got them there with minutes to spare.

Ivy was grateful they had left the motel early as they swung into the apartment complex parking lot at exactly four minutes before one o'clock. Charles cut the ignition and turned to Ivy with a bright joy shining in his eyes. His happiness was infectious and they shared a giddy moment of excitement before jumping from the car.

Elation quickly turned to annoyance as they found the apartment complex's office was dark and locked up tight. Charles peered through the large pane of glass in the office door, his hands cupping the sides of his eyes to cut the afternoon glare.

"No one's there," Charles said. "No lights are on or anything."

Ivy growled and stomped her way back to the car. "I can't believe this. He said one o'clock."

"It's okay," Charles said, following close behind. "We are a little bit early."

"I guess that's true," Ivy said, calming down. She leaned against the trunk of her car and pulled out her cell phone. Charles leaned on the car beside her, his arms crossed and his head down.

"What're you doing?" Charles asked quietly.

"I'm just going to call the property manager, just in case he forgot or I got the time wrong or something."

Ivy dialed, and a moment later she sighed, and threw her phone back in her purse.

"Great," Ivy said bitterly, her face a rigid mask of aggravation. "No answer."

"I'm sorry," Charles said quietly, his head still down.

Seeing Charles looking so beat down made Ivy sick with self reproach.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," Ivy said, her voice soft and contrite, rubbing Charles' shoulder in an effort to soothe his feelings. "I'm sorry for getting upset. I'm just tired from the trip and emotionally exhausted and we've got so much to do today."

"I know," Charles said, scraping the toe of one foot nervously on the pavement. "I just don't like it when you're mad. I don't want you to ever feel like that. If I had my way, you'd be nothing but happy all the time."

"You're too good to me," she said, meaning it with all of her heart. "But, trust me, my anger has nothing to do with you."

He shrugged as if he didn't believe her, lifted his head and looked around at the two three-story buildings that made up the apartment complex. The buildings seemed to be in good repair, painted a fresh off-white that looked clean and cheery. The small amount of lawn that surrounded both buildings was bright green and recently cut. The sidewalks that ran in front were bordered by obviously well-tended shrubs. 

"This is a really nice place," Charles said.

Ivy surveyed her surroundings and shrugged. "Anything's better than Oklahoma."

"Not going to argue with you there." Charles chuckled and playfully bumped Ivy's shoulder with his own. "But I really like this. This is the start of something really good. Don't you feel it?"

Ivy turned away, trying to hide the burgeoning smile that Charles' words had brought.

Charles laughed and lifted his arms high over his head, sighing as he stretched. "Which apartment is ours?"

"Let's see," Ivy said, pulling a folded packet of paper from her purse. "According to the paperwork that our new landlord sent, we are in apartment number twenty-two-oh-three."

Charles found the apartment with his eyes, nestled on the second floor of the building right in front of them. His gaze turned soft and reverent as he said to himself, "Our first home together."

Ivy watched him from the corner of her eye and once again felt the fizzy happiness that only Charles could bring bubbling up in her heart. She reached out for his hand and wound their fingers together.

"I love you," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He leaned down toward her and whispered, "I love you, too."

She turned her face up to kiss him, pressing her lips lightly against his, and was jolted by a sudden reflex to pull away. Kissing Charles had always been forbidden; even behind a locked door it had felt illicit. No physical contact unless the coast was clear. It was their biggest rule.... which they were now breaking.

They were kissing in public for the very first time, and there was no one to judge them, no one to condemn their affection. Her initial impulse to step away suddenly morphed into a heady need to make good use of their new-found freedom. Ivy let go of Charles' hand and pulled him close, kissing him deeply and thoroughly simply because _she could_. Charles responded passionately, holding Ivy tight as his lips claimed hers.

Ivy had a soft breeze playing in her hair, the sun dancing on her skin, and Charles circled in her arms. She had never, not even once in her entire life, been happier.

They were in their own world, until an exceptionally loud car horn blared nearby, startling them into jumping apart. A bright yellow sports car sped into the parking lot and jolted into the spot next to them. A man sprang from the car, stuttering loud apologies.

"I'm so sorry! I am so, so sorry!" the man muttered. "I had to take my girlfriend to work and I thought I'd be back in time!"

The man stopped in front of them, bending slightly and holding himself up with his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. The man was hefty, his stomach hanging slightly over the waistband of his pants. His hair was blond, slightly thin and wispy and his eyes were large and blue. He looked up at them and smiled. 

"I sure do hope you're my new tenants, or I'm going to feel very foolish."

"Mr. Hoffman, I presume?" Ivy said with a laugh.

"Call me Phil," he answered. "And I really am sorry."

"It's okay," Ivy said brightly, her cheeks red at having been caught kissing in the middle of a parking lot. She cleared her throat and reached out her hand. "Well, I'm Ivy... obviously." They shook hands and then she snaked her arm around Charles' waist. "And this is my better half, Charles."

Charles was beaming as he shook the man's hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you folks. How was the trip? You find the place okay?"

"Yes, we did," Charles said quickly. "The place is real nice."

"Thanks," Phil said, clearly assessing Charles with his eyes as if he weren't used to such effusive praise for his little tenement. "I try to take good care of it."

"Well, you succeed" Ivy said cheerily. "Not to rush things, but I take it you have some keys for us?"

* * *

In the end they were given four keys in total: two copies of the key that opened the front door, one key that opened their mailbox, and one key that opened the communal laundry room.

Ivy looked on in amusement as Charles delighted in slipping his keys on his very own ring.

The small, second-floor, studio apartment was essentially one room that featured a very tiny kitchen and a small bathroom and closet off to the side. It was furnished with a pull out couch, two wooden side tables that appeared to be from the seventies, and a small entertainment center with an old, but functional, TV. The flooring was new, a surprisingly expensive-looking cream-colored tile that would be easy to keep clean. The place wasn't luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it was cozy, only four miles from the library where Ivy would be working, and would suffice for six months while they got on their feet.

Charles insisted on unloading the car and bringing up all of the boxes himself, so Ivy did her part by thoroughly cleaning and sanitizing the kitchen.

They got their bearings using the map app on Ivy's phone and then drove to a nearby store to pick up essentials like towels, dish soap, laundry detergent and paper plates. Ivy didn't like the dark brown shower curtain that came with the apartment, so they bought a new one that was a mosaic of bright pink and turquoise flowers. Next they found a grocery store and stocked up on things for the kitchen. It was all very domestic and Ivy loved every second of it.

By the time night fell, they were both exhausted. They ordered pizza for dinner, took a glorious shower together and then fell into a tired heap on the couch.

"Almost forgot. There's one more thing I have to do before we go to sleep," Charles said, slipping from the couch to the one, large box that he had brought with him from Oklahoma. Ivy watched intently as he opened it, curious. He pulled out a stack of vinyl records and an old turntable. 

"Oh, wow," Ivy said. "That's so cool."

He smiled approvingly at her. "The one thing I just couldn't leave behind. Dad gave me most of the records. They're special to me."

"Totally understand that," Ivy said, sliding down onto the floor with Charles. Knowing how much music meant to him, she was not surprised at all by Charles wanting to bring along his collection. She began carding through the records which spanned all genres and eras. "These are all amazing. Do you have a favorite?"

She looked at him expectantly and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"I don't really have a favorite, but I have one special one that reminds me of you."

"Really," Ivy said, smiling. She sat down the stack of records she was holding and clapped with delight. "Play it for me."

"Okay," Charles said with a nod. He made short work of setting up the turntable, leaving it on the floor for lack of any furniture on which to place it, and rifled through the records until he found the right one.

Ivy noticed Charles' hands were shaking slightly as he slipped the album from it's sleeve, which carried the photograph of a young, handsome man - clearly at some point in the 1960s. Emblazoned across the picture was the name "Jimmie Rodgers."

Charles put the needle on the record and then stood. The brilliant [sound of a twinkly piano](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_VdtJ_lB0M) filled the room as Charles stood over Ivy and offered her his hand. "Dance with me?"

She nodded and let Charles pull her to her feet. He wrapped her in his arms and began to sway. She nestled against him and rested her head against his chest, letting him lead her in gentle circles. They'd never danced together before, and Ivy was pleasantly surprised to discover that Charles moved like he had music in his blood. There was an easy elegance in the way he stepped, a confidence and strength in the way he held her, and Ivy was soon swept away.

The lyrics of the song, obviously about an illicit affair of which people would not approve, tugged at Ivy's heart. Of course, it would remind him of her. She was his big secret and he was hers.

Charles was humming along with the bittersweet tune and then sang very quietly near her ear, _"Wish we didn't have to be afraid to show the world that we're in love."_

Ivy clung to him, listening to Charles sing to her of their love as their bodies moved together in a way that had Ivy feeling light and free. All too soon, the song was over. Charles let her go slowly and then turned off the record player.

"We are not a secret anymore, you know?" Ivy said as she crossed the room to take a seat on the sofa. "That part of our lives is over, okay?"

"Is it?" he asked over his shoulder, not quite looking at Ivy. He turned back to the record player and seemed to be very absorbed in the task of putting the record away.

"Yes," Ivy said. "We don't have to hide anymore. You're my man, and I want the whole world to know that."

Charles went still and then carefully rose from the floor to sit beside Ivy on the couch. He took her hand and sighed.

"You're my woman," he said. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I hated not being able to tell anyone or show anyone. Like... like... like the way I felt about you was something I should be ashamed of. I am _not_ ashamed."

"I'm not either," she said. "Never, ever, have I been embarrassed about you or the way I love you. And we don't ever have to hide again. I swear. That's done. We're not a secret, not anymore. Not ever again."

Charles looked so happy that Ivy wanted to cry. She held eye contact with him as she slowly crawled up and straddled his waist. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, slow and sweet.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, his arms circling her waist.

"That's good," Ivy said playfully, "because I love you, too."

Charles smiled and then leaned forward to rest his head against Ivy's chest, as if he were listening to her heart. She wound her fingers in his curls and let him hold her like he wanted.

He squeezed her and then reared up to kiss her hard, crushing her body to his. Ivy held onto his shoulders as he kissed her lips, then her neck and the spot below her ear that made her entire body tingle.

It was like Charles knew exactly how to touch her, like he'd studied every reaction he'd ever gotten so that he could hit the right spots every time. Before long, Ivy was grinding down against him, almost without realizing it, her hips moving in shallow circles.

Charles hummed against her skin as he tried to meet her by pushing up with his own hips, but the angle was awkward and he soon became frustrated.

"Can we take our clothes off, please?" he asked, running his hands beneath her T-shirt on the bare skin of her back. 

She nodded and slowly raised herself to stand beside the couch. She took off her shirt and threw it on the floor. Charles licked his kiss-swollen lips as he watched her undress. She slid off her underwear right along with the loose linen pajama shorts she wore to bed and then stood before him completely naked, her hands on her hips.

"Your turn," she said.

He stood quickly, sliding off his shirt and shucking off his jeans as fast as his hands could move. As soon as all of his clothes had been stripped away, Ivy pounced, pushing him back onto the couch, flat on his back.

He laughed and pulled her down on top of him.

Ivy smiled as their bodies came together, no barriers between them, and straddled Charles' waist with a triumphant look in her eye. He was already hard and it felt good to just rock against him, so she let her body move like it yearned to. He ran his fingertips along her arms and her breasts and the long lines of her neck and then down her body to grasp her hips, guiding her as he pressed up to slide against her wetness until they were both panting and desperate.

The couch wasn't all that wide, so it was slightly awkward as Ivy reared up and took Charles in her hand. She had to press hard into the side of the sofa to give herself enough room, but she wiggled until the head of his cock slid into her.

Charles held onto her hips as she lowered herself until he was deep inside of her. She moved slowly at first, undulating against him in a way she'd never done before. They'd never made love on a sofa, let alone a sofa in a place that was home to both of them, and something about that fact sent a thrill all through Ivy's body.

She looked down at Charles' face, his shining eyes and unruly hair, and was overcome by her love for him. She pressed down against him hard, grinding their hips together.

He gasped and reared up against her, lifting her from the couch with just the strength of his thighs. She made a soft, needful sound and quickened her pace, splaying her hands on his chest for leverage as she rocked herself up and down. They were breathless, moving together in a frenzy, mindlessly crashing into each other over and over until Charles was pistoning his hips and Ivy was practically bouncing over him.

"This is going to be over fast," he said, his head thrown back. 

"It's okay," she panted, the muscles in her thighs burning. "Go ahead. Come on..."

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth on a soundless cry of pleasure as Ivy's own body throbbed with the need to come. She doubled her efforts, riding him fast and ruthlessly, her body taking him in over and over until he cried out, his hands squeezing her hips hard. He pulsed inside of her and she slowed slightly, the new wetness making the glide of her body almost effortless.

He slid his hand between her legs and used his thumb to tease her. "Come on," he urged her. "Your turn, baby."

"Oh God," she moaned, reaching for the couch to steady herself as she bucked against Charles. "Yeah... just... don't stop... don't stop..."

He twisted the pad of his thumb against her _just right_ and her climax slammed into her. She shivered as the pleasure coursed through her, eventually collapsing onto Charles with a satisfied sigh. He enfolded her in his arms, trying to keep her warm in the suddenly cool room.

"We can't stay like this," he said reluctantly. "We need to clean up and get the bed ready."

She couldn't argue with him, so with slack arms and wobbly legs, she heaved herself off of the couch and padded into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she was done, she threw on clean panties and recovered her T-shirt from the floor. They pulled out the bed and slid fresh, crisp sheets onto the mattress. Once she was lying down with the blankets pulled up to her chin, she decided it wasn't as comfortable as a regular bed, but it wasn't horrible to sleep on either. Charles turned off the light and slid in beside her, immediately pulling her close.

"You have a mission now, you know?" Ivy said quietly.

"I do?" Charles said.

In the dark, Ivy easily picked up on the hint of nervousness in his voice, as if he were bracing himself for some sort of derisive comment about something he'd done. Her heart broke wide open for him, as it always did in those moments, and she rubbed his arm soothingly.

"Yes, you have to do something very important."

"What's that?"

"You have to find us a new song."

* * *

They had a week before Ivy had to start her new job at the local library, so they spent the days turning the mostly empty apartment into their home. They bought a coffee maker and a set of canisters they could sit on the kitchen counter to hold their flour and sugar. They bought a cheap rug for the living room and a full-length mirror to hang on the bathroom door. 

The apartment slowly became _theirs_ , and any worries Ivy had about sharing such a small space with Charles were quickly put to rest as they effortlessly fell into their life together.

Most days started with Ivy waking up first and slipping out of bed to make coffee. The smell would usually rouse Charles, who would walk to the corner store for the newspaper and spend the morning looking for a job.

He swept and she mopped. She washed the dishes and he dried. He did the laundry and she ironed the things that would wrinkle.

They enjoyed each other in ways they never could at home, making up for lost time by being physically close any chance they got. There was cuddling on the sofa, washing each other in the shower and holding hands as they wandered through the nearby park.

The only dark cloud to hover over them was the never-ending threat of the _family_. Ivy couldn't ignore her mother's calls forever, and eventually Charles would want to speak to his mother. Ivy lived every day with the fear of Charles learning the truth about them and leaving her forever. A sharp blade of guilt would twist in Ivy's gut when those thoughts would come to haunt her, but her burgeoning happiness was big enough to dull it most of the time.

* * *

Monday came around much too quickly for Ivy's liking, and she woke up early for work with butterflies in her stomach. There were new people to meet and a new way of life to learn. She was nervous, but she was able to choke down some coffee and toast before showering and getting ready. For the first time since she and Charles had been together, she pulled out her make up bag. She sat at the tiny kitchen table with her mirror, applying the make up with great care. She didn't have a very practiced hand with the stuff.

"What're you doing?" Charles called across the room from his spot on the couch.

"Putting on some make up," Ivy answered without taking her eyes off of the mirror. "I want to make a good impression, and Lord knows I need all the help I can get. Look at all these freckles."

"I like your freckles," he said quietly. "I like everything about your face."

"You're sweet," Ivy said as she dabbed more concealer under her eyes. "But you're also biased because you love me." She turned her head to shoot a bright smile in Charles' direction.

"You're gorgeous no matter what you do," Charles said, his smile as big as Ivy's.

"My mother doesn't think so," Ivy said, going back to her make up application. "Mom says all women need make up."

"She was wrong," Charles said. "She was wrong about you."

Ivy set her eyeliner down on the table and stared at her reflection. Her mother had been wrong about her, in so many different ways. Her mother didn't have any idea about who Ivy really was. Her mother knew nothing about the untapped wells of strength in Ivy's soul. 

With a smirk, she turned to Charles and said, "Thank you."

She finished her make up and straight-ironed her hair, slipping into her best skirt and long-sleeved blouse. As she checked herself in the mirror, Charles let out a whistle.

"You look so beautiful," he said.

"Thank you," she said, turning to wrap Charles in a hug. "I don't know why I'm so nervous. I just want to do well."

"You will," Charles said soothingly. "You're amazing and they'll see that."

* * *

It turned out that Charles was right, and Ivy was humming with happiness when she walked though the door. Charles was sprawled on the sofa watching TV but bolted upright as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

"Hi," he said almost breathlessly. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Ivy said as she kicked off her high heels and flung her purse on the couch. "I had a wonderful day."

Charles quickly turned off the television and motioned for Ivy to join him on the sofa. "Come sit and tell me all about it."

She sat close to him and curled her feet beneath her as she told him about how much she liked the people she worked with and how friendly everyone had been. She told him all about how they had taken her out to lunch in honor of her first day and how quickly the day had flown by. He listened raptly with a proud smile all the while.

"So, how about you?" Ivy asked when she was done rehashing her day. "Did you have a nice day?"

"I did," Charles said, sitting back and looking away. "Now, you must be hungry. What would you like for dinner?"

"You don't have to cook," Ivy said. "I could throw something together really quick..."

"No," Charles cut her off, his voice just a bit louder than it had previously been. "You've been working all day, and I want to do something for you. I can do it."

Ivy wasn't used to him asserting himself in such a way, so she was thrown by his demeanor.

"I know you can do it," Ivy said as gently as possible, "but I'm letting you know that you don't _have_ to do it. We're a team, remember?"

"Exactly," Charles said, "we're a team. You worked hard today and I didn't do anything but sit around this apartment. The least I can do is fix you some dinner."

"Charles," she said softly, "I know what this is about, and I am telling you that all I need to be happy is to come home to you. And pretty soon we're both going to be working anyway. You're going to find a fantastic job that you're going to love and we'll both come home in the evening and cook dinner together." She leaned forward and gently cupped his face. "How does that sound?"

"That sounds great," Charles said, one corner of his lips slipping up into a small smile. "I can't wait for that."

"Me either," Ivy said, sitting back and clearing her throat. "And maybe tomorrow you can take me and drop me of at work in the morning? That way you can have the car if you want to go somewhere or do something?"

"Really?" Charles asked, his nose scrunching up in a way that Ivy thought was adorable.

"Of course," Ivy said. "Partnership, remember?"

Charles nodded and said, "Okay. That would be real nice."

"Good," Ivy said, patting his thigh. "That's decided. Now let's decide on what we're having for dinner tonight."

"I know that I'm not the best chef, but I can fix us some spaghetti. We bought that Italian bread, so we might as well use it. And I'm not saying I want to do it because I owe it to you or something, but because it would make me feel really good to make dinner for you."

"Okay, then," Ivy said with a decisive nod. "You make dinner while I get out of these thoroughly uncomfortable clothes."

After she got changed into a T-shirt and jeans, Ivy offered to help but Charles shooed her out of the kitchen. So she sat and read while Charles cooked, the delicious smell of the simmering sauce making her stomach growl with hunger.

She looked up from her book to see him stirring something on the stove and she giggled. "Imagine what the folks at home would say if they saw you right now."

He laughed and put a lid back on the pot he'd been stirring. "They wouldn't believe it."

"Probably not," Ivy said, crossing the room to stand with Charles in the kitchen, "but who cares what any of them think?"

"Not me," Charles said, leaning in for a quick kiss. "Your opinion is the only one that matters to me."

She hugged him and kissed him once again before stepping back and looking around the tiny kitchen. "So, you're sure you don't need any help?"

"Nope," Charles said with a shrug. "It's almost done. What you can do is give the sauce a taste and let me know what you think." He held out the large spoon to her in invitation. She took it with a grin and sampled a bit of the sauce. She licked her lips in an exaggerated display of appreciation.

"I've got an opinion for you," Ivy said. "This beats anything your mother ever cooked. I always hated her casserole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Charles and Ivy dance to is _Secretly_ by Jimmie Rodgers. If you didn't catch the link to it in the fic itself, you can listen to it [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_VdtJ_lB0M). I highly recommend giving it a listen.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks after Ivy started at the library, Charles was hired at Jack's Music Shop, a quaint little store that operated out of the eponymous Jack's home. It was a weathered, two-story house with neon signs in the bottom windows advertising guitar lessons and drum kits while a slightly faded, hand-painted sign emblazoned with "Jack's Music Shop" took pride of place in the front yard underneath a large tree. Jack was just as craggy as his home, an old, rambunctious man who smoked too much and told too many bawdy jokes. In so many ways he was the opposite of the quiet, even-tempered Charles, but the two formed an immediate bond over their love of early blues artists and all things Elvis Presley. Charles was hired after a single, hour-long conversation about Sun Studio and the birth of rock and roll.

Even though Charles didn't make a lot of money selling the occasional guitar or piano lesson, he walked the short half mile to work every Monday through Friday with a smile on his face. Every day he became more secure in his new life, which only added to Ivy's own burgeoning sense of peace.

Waking up in the warm embrace of Charles' arms every morning and coming home to him every evening was all that Ivy had hoped it would be and more. Living together had come so naturally to them, it was as if they were always meant to spend their lives with each other. They both loved their jobs and together they earned enough that they were able to squirrel away small amounts of money into a savings account. They surprised each other with small, thoughtful gifts. Charles bought himself a fancy cell phone and Ivy changed her own cell phone number to a new one with a New York area code.

One weekend they got adventurous and took a bus into Manhattan, where they walked the streets hand in hand, marveling at everything they saw until Charles stopped Ivy in the center of Time Square, pulling her close and kissing her right in the middle of the sidewalk, trembling as the teeming throng passed them by.

Their old way of living, the one learned on the harsh, unforgiving plains of Oklahoma, was slowly fading as a new, better way of life was emerging. There was happiness instead of despair, hope instead of fear.

Aside from the typical, petty annoyances with which all couples must eventually contend - Charles consistently forgot to replace the cap on the toothpaste and Ivy left her shoes in discarded heaps near the front door - they had an entirely unspoiled existence. 

They grew complacent, lulled into a sense of tranquility. until the afternoon in early November when Ivy walked into their apartment to find Charles sobbing at the kitchen table, his head hanging low and his telephone pressed to his ear. Panic, sudden and cold, flooded Ivy's veins. She was so shocked that it took her almost a full minute to realize she was standing in the open doorway like some sort of strange statue. Feeling very much like a robot, she tossed aside her purse and keys and shut the door. She took off her coat and threw it on the sofa as she swept into the kitchen.

The flurry of activity drew Charles' attention and his head swiveled towards her. Grief was etched all over his face, his eyes red-rimmed and raw while tears dripped down his cheeks and left damp patches on his shirt. He turned away from her and gave the phone his full attention once more.

"She's home," he choked out to whomever he was speaking. "She's home, so I have to go. We'll call you later, okay?"

There was a moment of silence and then Charles said goodbye and disconnected the call.

Ivy flew into the seat across from him and took his hand. "Who was that? What's going on?"

"I'm so sorry that you had to come home to see me like this," Charles said, taking a giant breath and swallowing hard against whatever emotion was clogging his throat. He dabbed underneath his eyes with a napkin and then looked at Ivy. "That was my dad. Mom's in the hospital. Heart attack or something. Something with her heart. She's not doing good. They don't think she's gonna make it."

"Oh God," Ivy said, reaching out to gently rub his forearm. "Oh, Charles, I'm so sorry."

"I know," Charles said, nodding. "I know you are." He rested his hand on top of hers, silently thanking her for the support.

"Poor Uncle Charles," Ivy whispered almost to herself. "He's there all by himself."

"I know," Charles said. "I can't tell you how guilty I feel right now. I mean, the way I just up and left and the awful way I talked to my mother the last time she called. She was right about me. I'm a terrible son."

Before Ivy could say anything to protest, Charles pulled away from her, sniffling loudly. Ivy wrung her hands together, watching him warily. He cried quietly, and Ivy let him. For several interminable minutes Ivy waited for him to settle. Once he was silent and mostly dry-eyed, Ivy took his hand.

"What can I do to help? What do you need?"

Charles looked at her with a weak but grateful smile. "I have to go home."

"Okay," Ivy said with a nod. "We'll go home."

"You don't have to come," he said, shaking his head. "You have your job. You can stay. I can go by myself."

"No," Ivy said. "We are in this together. I'll handle everything. Do you want me to call Jack for you?"

"No," Charles said. "Let me."

"Okay. You call Jack and I'm going to send an e-mail to my boss."

* * *

They left the very next morning, using their meager savings to pay for two tickets out of Westchester to Tulsa International Airport. Charles wanted to drive instead, but Ivy feared that an attempt to drive back home would rob Charles of his only opportunity to make peace and say goodbye to his mother before she passed on. She gently convinced him that flying made more sense.

Uncle Charles picked them up from the airport and drove them straight to the hospital in Pawhuska. The drive took a little over an hour, Charles sitting in front beside his father, fretting and fidgeting the entire way. Ivy could only watch helplessly from the back seat.

* * *

Mattie Fae lay in her hospital bed, eyes closed, obviously asleep. The blankets were pulled all the way up to her chin, her hair a dark halo against the stark white of the pillow case.

Charles approached her quietly, letting Ivy hang back near the door. He stood next to his mother's bed and watched her face, a frown on his lips and worry creasing his brow. Several long moments passed while Charles studied his mother, the beeping of her heart monitor very loud in the otherwise silent room.

Eventually, Charles turned back to Ivy. "She looks peaceful, doesn't she?"

Ivy nodded, her gaze flicking to her aunt's face. "Yes, she does."

"I'm glad," Charles said, turning back to his mother. "I was afraid she would be in pain or something."

"Is there anything I can do?" Ivy asked.

"No," Charles whispered. "Why don't you go get some dinner for yourself or something? We've had a long day. It's getting late and those peanuts on the plane weren't enough to fill you up."

"Why don't you come have some dinner with me?" Ivy asked very quietly. "We can come right back up here after."

"No. I just want to sit with her for a while, okay?"

"Okay," Ivy said, tiptoeing to Charles and placing a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. "I'll be downstairs. Call if you need me."

Charles nodded but didn't look at Ivy as she silently left the room.

* * *

They spent the night at Uncle Charles' place, both Charles and Ivy falling immediately into an exhausted sleep, wound tight against each other in Charles' childhood twin bed.

The next morning Ivy woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She carefully slid herself from Charles' grasp and onto the floor. The room was freezing. As quietly as she could, Ivy rooted around in her suitcase for a sweater and a pair of jeans. She threw the clothes on and made her way to the kitchen.

"Morning, Uncle Charles," Ivy said, walking straight to the coffee maker to pour herself a large cup. "Thanks for letting us sleep in."

"Of course, hon," Uncle Charles said, setting down the newspaper in which he'd been absorbed. "You two sleep alright in that tiny bed?"

"Yeah," Ivy said, settling in at the kitchen table. "What about you? You sleep okay?"

Uncle Charles shrugged and took a sip of his own coffee. 

"I'm so sorry," Ivy said. "So sorry for what's happened to Mattie Fae."

"I know, hon."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Uncle Charles? Anything at all?"

"Nah," he said. "I'm doing just fine. I've been prepared for this for a while now. Mattie Fae didn't take the best care of herself." He shook his head sadly.

"I know, but I want to make sure _you're_ taking good care of _yourself_."

"Don't you fret about me. I can manage."

"I know you can," Ivy said, letting the subject drop. 

"What about you?" Uncle Charles asked. "You gonna go see your mom while you're here? I know she'd love to see you."

Ivy took a deep breath to steady herself and then exhaled loudly, her head falling slightly. "I don't want to see her."

"I can understand that," Uncle Charles said, picking the newspaper back up, shaking it out noisily. He went back to reading and Ivy went back to sipping her coffee. After a moment, Uncle Charles looked over the top of his paper and said, "Just in case you change your mind, I'd be happy to take you over there. You just say the word."

"Thank you, Uncle Charles," Ivy said, standing up to place her coffee cup in the sink. Her back still towards her uncle she asked, "What time do you want to leave for the hospital?"

* * *

Later that morning, Charles once again sat vigil at his mother's side, holding her hand and staring at her face, sometimes whispering softly to her. Ivy was there in the background, waiting to spring into action should Charles need her. Uncle Charles floated in and out of the room like a specter, pain for his son and for himself written all over his face. Doctors came and went, Charles waving away their explanations and medical jargon while his father listened intently.

Ivy sat and waited.

* * *

Mattie Fae died the following day, slipping away silently with both her son and her husband by her side. That night, Ivy held Charles while he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

The funeral was scheduled for a Monday, the eleventh of November. The night before, Charles cornered Ivy in the kitchen after his father had gone to bed.

"You've got to go see your mom," Charles said with more force than he'd ever used with Ivy. "You _have_ to."

"Why?" Ivy asked, drawing upon all of her strength to keep herself from yelling. "I don't want to see her. I need to focus on you and Uncle Charles right now. You need me."

Charles crossed the room and grasped her gently by her upper arms. "I just lost my mom after I'd left things with her on bad terms. It feels awful. I don't want you to feel this way."

"I appreciate what you're saying, but my relationship with my mom is different than the one you had with yours." Ivy slipped away from Charles to pour herself a glass of her uncle's bourbon. 

"Fix me a glass of that too, will you?" Charles said, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table. Ivy was surprised at the request, but poured him a glass anyway. She slid it across the table to him as she took a seat.

"The funeral is tomorrow," Charles said, lifting his glass for a long drink, swallowing heavily. "You mom is gonna be there."

"I know," Ivy said. "That doesn't mean I have to talk to her."

Charles knocked back the rest of his bourbon, grimacing as the drink went down. He thunked his glass onto the table and purposefully leaned forward to look deep into Ivy's eyes. Ivy waited for him to speak, but he stayed silent as he peered at her.

"What is it, Charles?" she asked when the silence became too much for her to endure. 

"I love you," he said. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Ivy said uneasily, confused by the entire situation. "You know that."

He nodded and then reached across the table to take her hand. "Yes, I know. Thank you for everything. For being here for me."

"Always," Ivy said. "I'll always be here for you."

"Good," Charles said. "Now let _me_ be here for _you_. For once, just listen to me. Trust me. Make peace with your mom."

After a moment of silence, Ivy said, "I'm not sure if I can do that. I just don't know if I have that kind of forgiveness in me."

"You do," Charles said bluntly. "You do. You have the biggest and the best heart of anyone I've ever known. You have so much love in you that it knocks the breath out of me sometimes." 

Ivy let his words sink into her brain, sipping her bourbon and gazing at the man she loved as he looked right back at her as if she were the sun around which his world revolved.

"You don't fight fair," Ivy said, attempting a reassuring smile. "I guess you're right. I can't promise you that anything good will come of it, but I'll talk to my mom tomorrow after the funeral."

He squeezed her hand in gratitude. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," she said, leaning over the table to kiss him.

* * *

The funeral was short and somber. Barbara wasn't there, but she sent a flower arrangement with a nice card. Ivy sat through the service making a concerted effort to avoid catching her mother's attention. She could feel her mother's gaze on her like a concentrated heat on the back of her head. From the corner of her eye, Ivy could see that her mom was ailing, thinner and paler than she had been just a few months before.

Mattie Fae had wanted to be cremated, so there was no casket. Instead, there was a lovely table decorated with flowers and several photos of Mattie Fae, most of them taken when she had been younger and much more svelte.

Charles made it through the entire service without a single tear, his back straight and his head held high. Uncle Charles sat on the other side of him, subtly wiping away his tears with an old handkerchief. Ivy's heart broke for the both of them.

As people were streaming out of the church, Ivy let Charles know she was going to talk to her mother. She wanted to kiss him, to pull him close and draw upon his strength, but she held herself back.

Something fluttered nervously in Ivy's stomach as she approached her mother. "Mom?"

Violet turned around fast enough to trip herself. Johnna quickly steadied her. "Oh, Ivy, my sweet girl. My darling girl. I have missed you so much."

Violet was in a plain, solid black dress that hung lankly from her frame, making her look bony and gaunt. A pair of sunglasses hid her eyes, but her lips were painted bright red. Her wig was the same as always, every hair in place.

Ivy held back a gasp as her mother stumbled slightly forward to hug her. Violet's arms were frighteningly weak around Ivy's shoulders. Ivy gently returned the embrace and then stood back out of her mother's reach. Johnna politely turned away, but didn't leave Violet's side.

"It's good to see you, Mom," Ivy said. "Would it be alright if I went back home with you so we can talk?"

"Of course," Violet said. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

"Thank you," Ivy said. "I'm just going to let Charles know and then I'll be right back."

* * *

The drive was long and silent. By the time Ivy followed Violet and Johnna into the house, she was ready to leave. The air inside was stale and smelled of cigarette smoke. The windows were all closed and the shades were all pulled down, the house dark and imposing.

"Sit down at the table," Violet said, motioning toward the large dining room. She threw down her pocket book and turned to Johnna. "Johnna, could you get us a little something to eat? Maybe some of that apple pie from last night?"

Johnna served them and then went upstairs to her room.

Ivy took a bite of her pie while she worked up the courage to say something. She should have known that her mother would have the first word.

"Didn't look too good in the church, you sitting all cozy next to Charles like that. It's not decent."

Ivy let her fork clatter onto her plate and twisted in her seat until she fully faced her mother.

"Go on," Ivy said, making a twirling motion with her finger. "I know you have more to say, so go ahead. Get it on out."

"Now, don't get like that," Violet snapped, reaching for a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and exhaled a long stream of smoke. "I wasn't being mean or nothing."

"No, of course not. You're never mean, are you, Mother?"

"I'm not! I've never been mean to you kids a day in your lives."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "I remember differently."

"Oh please," Violet waved the hand with which she held her cigarette dismissively, some ashes floating gently down to the table. "I was never mean to you. You kids don't know what mean really is."

"I've heard this story before," Ivy said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't feel like having this conversation with you again. I know that you had it rough and I had it easy. I get it, okay? You don't have to keep telling me. That's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here, then?" Violet asked. "Want to tell me what a horrible person I am? Or do you want to apologize for up and leaving me while I'm dying of mouth cancer?"

"Don't," Ivy said, holding up her hand. "Do not even go down that road. I gave you years and years of my life and you gave me nothing but disdain in return. You don't get to put a guilt trip on me."

"Nothing but disdain?" Violet took another drag of her cigarette as she watched her daughter through squinted eyes. "I didn't raise you? I didn't give you a home? I didn't make sure you had food to eat and clothes on your back?"

"Sure you did," Ivy said. "You expect a medal or something? Hate to break it to you, but taking care of their children is what parents do."

"Why are you here?" Violet asked. "Just tell me why you're here so we can get this over with."

"I'm here to make peace with you."

"Peace?" Violet made a dismissive snort and turned her head away. "You're here to relieve yourself of guilt, then. Well, you won't be finding any forgiveness from me. You shouldn't have left me here to die alone, and I'll never excuse you for that." 

"You don't get it," Ivy said, fighting hard to keep her ground against the flames of guilt that her mother's words had flared into a threatening heat in her chest. "I'm not here so that you can forgive me; I'm here so that I can forgive _you_."

"Forgive me? For what?"

A challenge blazed in Violet's eyes and for a brief moment Ivy was afraid. She wanted to take the coward's way out, to just stand up and walk out and leave her mother behind her forever. But then Ivy thought of Charles and how disappointed he would be if she didn't at least _try_.

"I want to forgive you for a lot of things," Ivy said. "I forgive you for each and every time you called me a nasty name. I forgive you for every passive-aggressive barb you sent my way. I forgive you for every time you purposely embarrassed me in front of other people."

"Now wait a minute..."

"No," Ivy said, slamming her hand on the table. "I am speaking and you will listen."

Violet sat back in her chair, a look of surprise on her face.

"That's right," Ivy said. "You sit there and you listen. You were horrible to me. You were horrible to all of us, really. Why do you think Barb and Karen left? It was to get away from _you_. And I stayed. I felt sorry for you, so I stayed close to home. And what did I get in return? You cut me down every chance you got. You did your best to make me feel small. I tried my best to live up to your expectations, but it was impossible. You told me I wasn't attractive enough for a man to ever want me. Every thing I ever did was wrong. Every thought I ever had was stupid. I was never good enough." Ivy stopped to take a breath, shaking her head in sadness. "I finally figured it out. I figured out that I would _never_ be good enough in your eyes. And you know what? Once I figured that out, I was finally able to love myself a little. Finally, I thought myself worthy of happiness."

"Happiness?" Violet asked, her voice dripping venom. "I guess shacking up with your half-brother is what you call happiness."

"Shut up," Ivy said. "You don't get to talk about Charles. You're not worthy of even speaking his name."

"That buffoon? Ha!" Violet angrily snubbed out her cigarette and glared at Ivy. "He's a joke. Can barely walk without tripping over himself. No wonder he can't keep a job. He's stupid, too. I doubt he can even spell his own name and you're talking about him like he's some sort of prize?"

"You don't even know him," Ivy spat. "You and that evil sister of yours were too busy cutting him down to notice how wonderful he is."

"Don't you dare talk about Mattie Fae that way. That woman was a saint."

"A saint?" Ivy chuckled bitterly. "She was just as mean as you, and just as two faced. As a matter of fact, I wonder why you would defend her knowing that she not only slept with your husband, but had his child."

"That whole incident was put away and buried years ago," Violet said. "Besides, we've all done things we're not proud of. All of us."

"True," Ivy said, nodding. "So why don't you admit to the hateful things that you've done? Why do you deny all of it?"

"I don't answer to anyone except God," Violet said. "I don't owe anyone else anything, and that includes explanations or apologies."

"You're wrong," Ivy said. "You owe _me_."

"I gave you everything I ever had. I don't need to give you anything more."

"Well, then I guess we don't have anything else to talk about."

"I guess not," Violet said, plucking another cigarette from the pack. "But before you leave, there's something else I just have to say."

"Go on then," Ivy said, rubbing her suddenly aching forehead.

"Being with your brother is wrong," Violet said. "You have to leave him."

"No," Ivy said. "That's not going to happen, so don't waste your breath. Just don't bother."

"How can you say that?" Violet asked, leaning forward, nothing but a sad pity in her eyes. "You know it's not right to be with your brother that way. You know it."

"I fell in love," Ivy said tiredly. "That's it."

"What about kids?" Violet asked. "What if you get pregnant?"

"Won't happen," Ivy said. "My uterus was removed a while ago. There's no chance we'll have kids."

"What?" Violet said, her eyes wide with shock. "When did that happen? Why?"

"Cervical cancer. Over a year ago," Ivy said. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want your judgment or your pity. I didn't want to give you one more reason to treat me like I was less than human."

"Oh Ivy," Violet sighed. "My poor baby. I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Ivy said. "I'm fine."

"I know, but..."

"But nothing," Ivy said. "It happened. It's over. I'm okay."

"Does Charles know you can't have children?"

"Of course," Ivy said. "He was the one who took care of me after the surgery. That's when we fell in love."

"But he knows? About not being able to have kids? And he doesn't care?"

"No, it doesn't bother him that I can't have kids," Ivy said. "He loves me."

"And you love him," Violet said. "All the men in the world and you fall in love with Little Charles."

"Yes," Ivy said.

"You're not going to leave him."

"No, I won't ever leave him," Ivy said with a sigh of exasperation. "What else did you need to say, Mom?"

Violet looked crestfallen, defeated. "Just one more thing."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"Little Charles isn't your brother."


	5. Chapter 5

_"Little Charles isn't your brother."_

Violet's words echoed in Ivy's head for a brief, tense moment. Ivy closed her eyes and clenched her fists, her teeth grinding together in her skull. 

"Did you hear what I said?" Violet screeched. 

"Yes, I heard you," Ivy snapped. "I'm just trying to figure out what kind of sick game you're trying to play."

"No game," Violet said, taking a long drag off of her cigarette. "I'm telling you the honest-to-God truth."

"You haven't really told me _anything_ yet," Ivy said. "Now would you please explain?"

"There's nothing to explain. Little Charles is not your brother. You don't share blood, except as cousins. Simple enough, isn't it? Do you need to clean your ears out or something?"

Violet chuckled to herself, obviously lost in her own amusement as if she'd made a terribly funny joke, her eyes glassy and far away.

"My ears are fine," Ivy said. "Now, I said what I came to say, and you're obviously not in your right mind, so I'm going to leave. You get some sleep, lay off the pills, and call me when your head is clear."

Ivy rose to leave, but Violet's fingers clamped around her wrist. The hold wasn't strong as Violet was very weak, but the action was enough to startle Ivy into immobility. 

"You sit down," Violet said angrily, her eyes blazing. "You sit down and listen."

Jerking her hand out of her mother's grip, Ivy settled back in her chair. "Okay. I'll listen if you start making some sense."

"Don't talk to me like that," Violet said. "I am your mother."

Ivy wisely remained silent.

"I am your mother," Violet repeated, her gaze growing soft as if she were losing herself to memories. "I am your mother, and I love you. I've always loved you. I've always loved all you girls. Gave you everything I could."

"Mom, please." Ivy sighed, her nerves stretched thin. She simply could not abide another one of her mother's patented lectures regarding how spoiled Ivy and her sisters had been. "Please, just explain to me what you meant about Charles not being my brother."

"Fine," Violet said as she put out her cigarette. "What I want you to know and understand is that Beverly Weston was a good man, God rest his soul. He took care of all of us, didn't he? Such a good man, a smart man, but he wasn't perfect. He had his moments of weakness, but haven't we all?"

Her brow furrowing in confusion, Ivy asked, "His moment of weakness being when he slept with your sister?"

"Yes," Violet said, nodding, her head wobbling drunkenly on her too thin shoulders. "He slept with her and then she had Little Charles. Little Charles was the most beautiful baby. You know that. You've seen pictures of him as a baby. I was so envious that Mattie Fae got a boy."

A bitter urge to remark about her mother's obvious disappointment in the gender of her children rose like bile in Ivy's throat, but she choked it down.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Violet said, as if she had read her daughter's mind. "I was grateful for every single one of you girls. So was Bev. He loved you girls something mighty. Almost made me jealous, how much he doted on you three."

Violet paused and took a deep breath. Ivy was surprised to see tears glistening in her mother's eyes.

"I miss him so much," Violet said, her voice cracking. "Oh, God, I miss him."

"I know, Mom," Ivy said softly. "I know you do."

"He was a drunk, but he was also a good man," Violet said, sniffling and wiping under nose with her sleeve. "He drank, and there were times he would be so out of his mind that he couldn't form a coherent sentence, but he was a good man."

"I know," Ivy said with all the patience she could muster. "But what does this have to do with Little Charles?"

"With Little Charles?" Violet asked, confused, as if she had forgotten the initial subject of their conversation.

"Yes, Little Charles." Ivy spoke slowly and carefully, hoping that her words made it through the drug-induced haze that was fogging her mother's mind. "What does Daddy being a good man have to do with whether or not Little Charles is my brother?"

"Oh," Violet said, suddenly remembering the message she had intended to convey. "Your father was a good man who made a mistake. Well, I made a mistake too. A big one. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is. No one knew. Bev didn't know. Not even Mattie Fae. I didn't tell a single soul."

Nodding to herself, Violet reached for another cigarette. She lit it and turned wary eyes to Ivy.

"What was it that you didn't tell anyone?" Ivy prompted, wanting to keep her mother speaking. "What was _your_ mistake?"

"My mistake?" Violet asked, shaking her head as she exhaled a long stream of smoke. "My mistake was named Robert."

"What does that mean?" Ivy asked. "Are you trying to tell me that you cheated on Daddy?"

Violet looked away, her cheeks growing pink in her otherwise pallid face. 

"It was a long time ago," Violet said. "It's not something I felt the need to dwell on. I was able to bury it and forget it, for the most part."

"Okay. You cheated on Daddy," Ivy said. "But I still don't understand what this has to do with Charles."

"Poor Ivy," Violet said. "You never have been one to catch on quick."

"Stop it," Ivy said. "Don't start that. Just tell me what you're trying to tell me."

"Ever wonder why you got so many of them freckles on your face while your sisters didn't?"

"What does my skin have to do with anything?" Ivy asked, exasperated.

"Robert had a lot of freckles," Violet said, peering at Ivy with suddenly sharp eyes.

"You mean...?" Ivy let the words trail off as she struggled with what her mother was implying. "I don't believe this. You're lying. You're lying right now..."

"I went to one of those big literary conferences with your father. Barb was about two years old. We left her with Mattie Fae and went down to Tulsa for a few days. I thought Bev and I would get to spend some time together alone, rekindle things. I was still harboring so much jealousy about what he'd done with Mattie Fae. I thought we could spend a few days putting things back together between us, but the first night there, Bev got drunk and passed out in our room. I was angry, so I went down to the bar in the lobby. One of the professors there for the conference recognized me. Robert. I don't even remember his last name. We talked and then he took me to his room. Things happened and then I was back in bed with Bev before the sun came up. Your father didn't know a thing." Violet smiled to herself.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Ivy said. "I don't know what you're trying to do by telling me this, but you can just stop..."

"Robert was handsome," Violet said, ignoring Ivy all together. "He was handsome but he had so many freckles. You got his freckles and his eyes."

"Mom, stop it. Why are you telling me this ridiculous story? Why?"

"I'm telling you this story, because you need to know the truth. I'm gonna spell it out for you because you obviously aren't listening: your biological father is a man named Robert."

"No," Ivy said, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide with shock. "I don't believe you. You're a liar."

"I'm not lying right now," Violet said, the downers she'd taken making her speech thick and slow. "I lied when I told you Little Charles was your brother because I didn't want you to go away, but I'm telling you the truth now. I mean, why would I lie now?"

"I don't know!" Ivy screamed. "Why do you ever do _anything_? To play some sick, twisted game! To manipulate me! To hurt me! That's why!"

"Ivy, no," Violet said, shaking her head vehemently. "No. I am not trying to hurt you now. I'm trying to do right by you. I don't have a lot of time left, so I'm trying to make things right while I still can."

Angry tears burned in Ivy's eyes. "You don't get to make yourself feel good about this. How could you keep this from me? And what about Daddy? Did he know?"

"No," Violet said. "No one knew. I had to keep this all by myself, weighing on me all these years. It would have broken your father's heart."

"You weren't worried about breaking his heart when you were sleeping with some stranger, though, were you?"

"Don't you judge me," Violet said, her face twisted into a mask of anger. "You have no idea what it was like, living with this. I kept quiet because of the love I had for your father."

"When you say _father_ , do you mean Roger?"

"Robert," Violet corrected. "His name was Robert and, no, I don't mean him. You know who your father was."

"How could you?" Ivy said. "How could you keep this from me?"

"What good would it have done to tell you?" Violet asked, as if Ivy were being completely obtuse. "You loved your dad and he loved you. I wasn't going to mess that up."

"Mess it up?" Ivy laughed darkly, tears wetting her cheeks. "You messed it up when you cheated on my dad!"

"He done me wrong, too," Violet said. "Don't forget that. He was no saint."

"No," Ivy said, plucking her napkin from the table to dry her eyes. "He wasn't a saint. But he was my dad... and now... now, he's _not_."

"Stop that," Violet said. "Get the idea right out of your head. That man was devoted to you. He was, is, and always will be your father."

"I'm not mad at _him_ ," Ivy seethed.

"You got no cause to be mad at me either," Violet said. "I kept the secret to _protect_ you, to protect you and your father. I suffered my shame alone, without being able to tell anyone. I did that for _you_."

"Of course, the eternal martyr," Ivy rolled her eyes. "So, I'm supposed to be _grateful_? You want me to thank you for lying to me about something this important?"

"I don't expect thanks, but a little bit of understanding would be nice." 

"I've got to go," Ivy said, standing abruptly and snatching her purse from the back of her chair. 

"Honey, no," Violet said, reaching out with the hand not holding a cigarette. "Don't leave things like this. We have to see this through. Let's talk about this."

"I'm done talking," Ivy said. "I need to... to process this."

" _Process_?" Violet snorted. "One of those New Age words, isn't it? What happened to just sucking things up? We were so much stronger in my day. You kids in this generation had everything handed to you. Made you all _soft_."

"Shut up," Ivy said, dismissing her mother entirely. "I'm going to call for Uncle Charles to come and pick me up and then I'm going to sit on the front porch and wait for him." Ivy walked over to the foot of the stairs while her mother looked on warily. "Johnna! Johnna, I'm leaving, and I think Mom is ready for bed!"

"Ivy, no," Violet whined. "Don't leave. I just put my sister to rest today! You can't just leave!"

"Sorry, Mom," Ivy said before walking out the door without so much as a glance in her mother's direction.

* * *

Uncle Charles was always adept at picking up on the emotions of others, and Ivy was grateful that he let her spend most of the car ride to his place in an easy silence.

As they pulled onto the street where Uncle Charles lived, Ivy quietly said, "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance, especially today."

She thought of the way Uncle Charles had silently cried at his wife's funeral earlier that day, and guilt squeezed Ivy's heart.

"Don't you apologize," Uncle Charles said. "I'm so happy you were here to help with things."

"It was a beautiful service," Ivy said. "Mattie Fae would have loved it."

"No she wouldn't have." Uncle Charles laughed. "If she were here right now, she would complain about everything from the food to the pictures we chose to have at the service."

Ivy chuckled. "You're probably right."

"I'm gonna miss her," Uncle Charles said, sobering slightly. "Never thought I'd ever be without her."

"So sorry," Ivy said, because that was all she _could_ say.

"Thanks, darlin'," Uncle Charles said. "I'll always love her. I'll always miss her. The house is going to feel so empty now that she's gone."

"Would you want me and Charles to come back? Stay with you for a little while, maybe? We could..."

"No." Uncle Charles "You kids have your own lives in New York now. And your situation being what it is, all things considered, it's better for you two not to be here."

"About that," Ivy said. "I'd like to tell you something, something important about me and Charles, but I'm not sure now is the right time."

"Go on ahead," said Uncle Charles. "If it concerns my son, I want to know."

Ivy swallowed hard and tapped all of the courage she could find within herself. "Well, you should know that we... we're really only cousins."

"What?" Uncle Charles shot Ivy a quick glance before turning his gaze back to the road. "What do you mean?"

"Mom told me tonight that she had been with someone else a long time ago. Some guy named Robert at a conference that mom went to with dad. Dad got drunk and passed out in their hotel room, so mom when to the bar where she ran into this guy. One thing led to another..."

"Wow," Uncle Charles said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And your mom just confessed this to you all of a sudden?"

"Yes," Ivy said. "I think... I think she didn't tell me the truth before because she was hoping I'd give Charles up. When she realized that I would never do that, no matter what, she came clean."

"I don't believe it," Uncle Charles said. "Was she high? Was she talking straight?"

"As straight as she ever talks," Ivy said, looking out the window. "She was on something, the usual, but I believe her."

"Wow," Uncle Charles said, shaking his head. "I guess that's good news. I mean..."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." Ivy shrugged. "It makes things a lot easier, that's for sure. No need for any more secrets between Charles and me."

"Yeah," Uncle Charles said. "It makes things easier in that respect. But I can imagine this must still be a lot for you to take. I just want you to know that your father - and Bev will always be your father - he loved you."

"I know," Ivy said, her voice shaking as fresh tears stung her eyes. "I loved him, too."

"Hey, honey, I'm sorry..."

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Ivy said. "I'm such a mess. I don't mean to burden you with all of this. You just lost your wife, for God's sake. You shouldn't be comforting _me_ ; it should be the other way around. I'm so sorry."

"Come on, now," Uncle Charles said soothingly. "You don't know how thankful I am to _you_ for being here, for taking care of my son. He's a sensitive boy, and this would be so much harder for him if you weren't here."

"I'll always be here for Charles," Ivy said. "That much, I can promise you."

"Good," Uncle Charles said as they coasted into the driveway.

Charles was waiting eagerly on the front porch.

Ivy didn't say anything as she made the short walk to him. He took one look at her face and silently opened his arms. She gratefully fell into them.

* * *

Later than night, as Ivy lay close to Charles in the darkness of his old bedroom, her mind raced. She knew she should be relieved to learn that she and Charles weren't actually brother and sister. Rationally, Ivy realized that her mother had done her a favor by revealing the truth, but resentment churned in her stomach nonetheless. A huge part of her life had been a lie, and that knowledge burned like acid inside of her. She wanted to sleep, to fall into an abyss of nothingness, but her mind would not shut itself off.

"You want to talk about it?" Charles whispered. "You're wound up tighter than a spring. I can feel the worry rolling off of you."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ivy answered quietly. "Sorry if I'm keeping you awake. Don't worry your little head over me. Go to sleep. I know you're exhausted and need some rest."

"I'm not tired," Charles said, running a reassuring hand up and down Ivy's arm. "Can't really sleep."

"I'm not surprised," Ivy said. "You just lost your mother. I'm so sorry, Charles. Is there anything I can do?"

"No," Charles said. "I'm just so glad you're here. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"That goes both ways," Ivy said, wrapping her arm around Charles' waist. "My hero."

Charles hummed with contentment at the familiar endearment. "Why don't you go ahead and tell your hero how things went with Aunt Violet?"

Ivy tensed, her body growing rigid. "The usual. I really don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Charles said soothingly. "You don't have to talk about it just now. I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever do."

They fell into silence, holding each other close, sharing heat and breath and grief, Charles mourning his mother and Ivy mourning the memory of the man she'd called her father. Each of them carried a sadness that seamlessly bled into the other. With each silent second that passed, Ivy was more grateful for the grounding warmth of Charles' body.

"This is going to sound horrible," Charles said suddenly.

Ivy waited for him to continue, but he stayed quiet and still.

"What's going to sound horrible?" Ivy asked. "You know you can say anything to me."

"I know," Charles said. "I just don't want you to think I'm a bad person."

"I'd never think that," Ivy said. "Just tell me."

"I want you," Charles said, suddenly breathless. "I know it makes me a horrible person, but I need... I need..." He squeezed her hip and shifted so that she could feel the hard length of him. "I need to feel something other than..."

Ivy quieted him with a gentle kiss, her lips searching awkwardly in the dark before they found their mark. She sat up to pull her T-shirt over her head and throw it to the floor before lying on her side, as close to Charles as possible.

"We have to be very quiet," Ivy whispered in his ear. "Your dad is right in the next room. Can you be quiet?"

Charles said nothing, but Ivy could feel him nodding in the inky blackness. 

"Good," she whispered, sliding her hand down his body to slip beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. She found him hot and hard and she moaned softly at the feel of him in her grasp. She stroked languidly, loosely, teasing him, enjoying the tiny tremors that wracked his body with each gentle movement of her hand.

Sorrow gave way to desire, the sadness that had filled them being burned away by their need for each other. Knowing that all of the grief and unhappiness would still be there in the morning, they gave themselves over to pleasure. Ivy reveled in the feel of Charles in her hand, and it wasn't long before his hips were rocking as he slid in her fist.

"Don't come," she whispered. "I want you inside of me."

Charles moaned then, loud in the silence of the night.

"Shhh," she hissed, fighting the urge to laugh. "You're gonna get us in trouble."

Charles did laugh, very quietly. "My turn to see if you can be quiet."

He stilled her hand, pulling it away from him and letting it fall to her side. He kissed her deeply and then gently pressed her down onto her back. His fingers skimmed her breast and her waist before sliding into her panties. Her thighs fell as open as the small bed would allow, and she squirmed until his fingertips were right where she wanted them.

She was warm and wet and the easy slide of Charles' fingers between her folds was exquisite. She exhaled roughly into the crook of his neck, but refused to give him the satisfaction of a moan. He was making it very difficult for her to keep silent, his fingers moving in gentle circles inside of her while his thumb expertly stroked against the heated bundle of nerves above.

"You feel so good," he breathed into her ear, sending tingles all the way down her spine.

She bucked gently against his hand, wanting him deeper. He quickened his pace, his hand almost vibrating inside and against her. She tossed her head back and bit her lip, gripping his bicep as pleasure coursed through her. She was embarrassingly close to coming.

"Please... don't... stop," she stuttered, her body shuddering with desire. "Please... I..."

"Shh. It's okay."

Ivy did moan then as he pushed in with more force than he had been, sliding two sure fingers into her and then out again. Over and over he drove into her, kissing her neck and breathing hot against her skin. Ivy writhed hard against him, rocking in time with his increasingly faster strokes.

"That's it," Charles whispered, and pressed against her clit with his thumb.

Her back arched up and her thighs trembled as her climax overcame her. He kissed her hard to swallow the desperate sounds she was making, and she threw her arms around him to ground her as tiny little sparks of pleasure danced through her.

When her tremors subsided she kissed him softly and said, "Guess I couldn't keep quiet."

He laughed and whispered, "Guess not, but I don't hear anything, so I think we're in the clear."

"Good, because it"s your turn," she purred, sliding her panties off and pulling him on top of her.

The bed was so small that it took a bit of shifting, but eventually Charles wound up naked in the cradle of Ivy's thighs. He slid into her slowly and she shivered, the lingering sensitivity of her orgasm causing her to gasp. She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

Charles panted harshly as he sank into her, the sensation of her body pulling him inside almost immediately overcoming him.

"Oh God," he moaned.

Ivy pulled him down for a feverish kiss and then wrapped her legs tight around him. His head dropped to her shoulder and his hips jerked slightly of their own volition as he made a desperate, needful sound deep in his throat.

"Feels so good," Ivy whispered. "God..."

"Mmmm," he hummed as he raised his hips slightly only to bring them down again, sliding effortlessly inside of her wet heat. She gripped him in every way that she could, with her arms and legs and the muscles inside of her. He moved slowly at first, deliberately, taking joy in every second of contact.

"More," Ivy purred against his ear, spurring him to take his pleasure.

He pushed in hard then and she cried out, stifling the sound against his shoulder. He eased back and then did it again, pushing so hard that Ivy had to slam her hand against the headboard to keep from hitting it with her head.

"Sorry," Charles whispered, never stopping the unrelenting thrusting of his hips.

"Just don't stop," Ivy said, biting her bottom lip against the way he was setting her nerves on fire.

He obliged Ivy, his length throbbing inside of her as he moved. They moved together in a primal way, completely connected in body and heart. It wasn't long before they were coming apart together, shuddering against each other as pleasure crashed into them and took them under, drowning them in a warm wave of peace.

Their worries temporarily vanquished, they slept.

* * *

While Jack told Charles that he could take as much time off as he needed, the library wasn't so lenient with Ivy. They would have to leave on Sunday, but that left them a few more days to spend in Pawhuska before needing to fly back to New York.

Ivy spent that Tuesday after the funeral keeping an eye on Charles. Her uncle had decided to go back to work for most of the day, so it was just the two of them at the house.

"You want to go do something?" Ivy asked after they'd eaten breakfast. "Go into town and see a movie or something?"

"No," Charles said, standing next to her at the kitchen sink. He was washing while she was drying. "I just want to stay close to home today, if that's alright with you."

"Of course, it is," Ivy said. "Is there anything I can do around here for you or for your dad? Can I make myself useful?"

"No," Charles said. "What you can do is snuggle up with me on the couch. I just want some peace and quiet, with you."

"I'd like that," Ivy said. "I could use some peace and quiet too."

And so they spent a lazy day together, watching TV and enjoying the easy comfort of each other's presence. After the dark turmoil of the past few days, it was nice to just sit in silence and turn off the rest of the world. The recharge was just what Ivy needed and by the time Uncle Charles came home, she was feeling quite relaxed.

Uncle Charles put on a brave face as she served the three of them dinner, kindly thanking her for the effort. They shared the meal and then Uncle Charles quietly excused himself. Once again alone, Charles and Ivy shared some wine and cuddled under a blanket in the living room.

"You look comfortable here," Ivy said, gazing at the serene expression on Charles' face. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here, for a little while at least?"

"I'm sure," Charles said, surprised at the question. "Our home, our life, is not here, and the reason I look so comfortable is because I am with you."

He punctuated the statement with a tiny kiss to the tip of Ivy's nose. She laughed and kissed him properly on the lips and then set back, looking around guiltily.

"What is it?" Charles asked. "What's wrong?"

"Still feels a little weird being physical with you while we're here," she answered honestly. "Old habits are hard to break, I guess."

"We're safe here," Charles said, pulling her tight against him. "There's no reason to feel uneasy."

"I know," Ivy said. "I just wish we were back home, in _our_ place." She winced. "That's really selfish of me, isn't it?"

"No, it's not." Charles chuckled. "I want to be home with you, too. We will be. Soon."

"Are you sure it's okay to leave your dad like this?" Ivy asked. "Should he be alone so soon after...?"

"He's tough," Charles said. "No need to worry on his account."

"I guess so," Ivy said. "I worry, though."

"I worry, too," Charles said. "Like, right now, I'm worried about the talk you had with your mother and the reason you came back here looking white as a sheet last night."

Ivy stiffened slightly. "It wasn't any big deal. It's not important."

"It _is_ important," Charles said, placing a kiss on Ivy's forehead. "Now, tell me what's going on. I don't want to be in the dark."

While she would take the secret about Charles' paternity to her grave, Ivy told him the truth about her own biological father. Charles was devastated on her behalf, sympathy shining in his eyes as he held her and let her talk.

She thanked him with sweet kisses and murmurs of gratitude before pulling him off of the couch and putting him to bed. Slipping under the covers beside him, Ivy felt lighter than she had in years. All of her secrets shed, she fell easily to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a very long time since I've written anything, but this story wouldn't let me go and forced its way onto the page. For further clarification regarding the main romantic relationship, the entire plot of the play/film can be read [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/August:_Osage_County_%28film%29#Plot). If you read this, I hope you enjoy. I am not lucky enough to have someone to beta for me, so please feel free to point out errors. Con-crit and comments are always much appreciated.


End file.
